


Little Elf

by Nessa_T



Series: The Prince of Mirkwood [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Young Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessa_T/pseuds/Nessa_T
Summary: The story that started it all. The beginning of a timeless love story.





	1. Birth of a Star

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago before the movie came out. (Most probably in 2004 or 2005). I found it kinda funny that Peter Jackson's Thranduil is exactly how I envisioned the character to be. :3
> 
> Anywho, this is a Prequel to the Warrior Elf series, but it can stand on its own. :)

The King sat upon his throne, silent and brooding. On his head he wore a crown of green leaves and berries; the treasures that the forest had provided, and in his hand, he held a staff of ornate carving. He sat with a predatory air of a cat awaiting its prey, and on his face was a look so stern that it would make a mere mortal stammer at the sight of such regal and dangerous beauty.

His name was Thranduil son of Oropher, King of all Elves in Mirkwood, and he was fair of hair with blue eyes. He was larger and more beautifully formed than the common Silvan folks of Mirkwood for he fought in many wars throughout the ages and time had been kind to him, enhancing his ethereal splendour instead of lining his features with age.

But the King was no longer the Elf that he once was. Gone was the smile that once played readily upon his lips and he looked as if he could neither remember the feeling of joy nor the sound of laughter. His eyes had become cold and unfeeling for he had borne the burden of many losses and terrible sadness in all the centuries that he had walked the earth.

It all began during the Siege of Barad-dur. The beginning of the end for the fair King. It should have been a moment of great joy the day that the Dark Lord was defeated. It should have been a moment where he could look upon his accomplishments with pride and satisfaction. But he could not even bear to think upon that distant past; for it was during the War that he had lost both his father and his first born, Iruven. They had fallen before the Black Gates of Mordor and his son had died in his arms. It was a painful memory, and it haunts him still when he chanced to remember those eyes, so much like his, staring up unseeingly into his face. It was an agony so extreme that for the first time in a lifetime, he contemplated the release that he could get from Death.

Many, many years have gone by and the King retreated further still into the shadows of his mind and a darkness seemed to settle in every nook and cranny of his Kingdom. It was then that his Queen decided to leave Mirkwood. "We cannot stay here anymore. Your grief will overwhelm us. We cannot bear to live like this," she had said, her voice choked with tears, as they lay side by side on their bed, not touching and not seeking comfort from one another. It was as if a huge physical barrier that had been erected between them. Thranduil did not know how it came to be but he realized that he no longer cared. Nothing mattered ever since Iruven died.

So the Queen left, sailing to the West with their youngest child, a beautiful Elf maiden with smiles like sunshine. And with that, the sun seemed to go out for the King as he remained in his underground palace, alone and embittered. She had broken their bond, freeing them both from their marriage and had walked away without looking back. It should have hurt him. He should have wept for what he had lost; his beautiful Elf Queen and their daughter with smiles like sunshine. But he did not. He no longer remembered how to feel. He could not bear to think of his loss.

The doors to the hall swung open and three figures walked in, flanked closely by his guards. The King's eyes narrowed at the grey garments that they wore. From the colours of their garb, he could tell that they were from the Woods of Lothlorien, the very woods that his father had lived in and was driven away from by the intrusion the Lady Galadriel and her Lord Celeborn into the Golden Woods.

The Kind tilted his head in mockery as he assessed the three stiff forms before him. Out of the three, there were two male Elves, broad shouldered and strong. The third was slender, obviously female and her face was covered with her hood. They bowed slightly with the respect that a King rightly deserved. And Thranduil continued to look down upon them from the dais upon which he sat on; looking down upon them with his eyebrow cocked and his lips curling with a sneer.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of having the Elves from Lothlorien standing before me?" he asked, his voice that was deceivingly soft was also dripping with sarcasm. A murmur broke out amongst his attendants and they too looked upon their unwelcomed guests with suspicions. Mirkwood and Lothlorien were never on friendly terms and their relations had grown worse ever since the incident at the Black Gates of Mordor.

One of the male Elves forced a smile. "Forgive me my lord. Perhaps it will be wise if we were to introduce ourselves," he said, his voice shaking with barely concealed anger. Thranduil said nothing but continued to look at them, silently baiting them. Their accents were thick, originating from the Woodland realm and their anger served only to make them trip over their own words. The King could almost smile. Almost.

"We are Rumil and Orophin, my liege. And we came from the fair land of Lothlorien with the hope that we could put aside our differences in the light of the current disturbance that besiege our lands," said the one called Orophin. And the King laughed then, a harsh sound that reverberated from the walls.

"And so the Lady Galadriel sent you, two Elflings, who have barely passed their majority to serve as a messenger for their 'fair' land?" Thranduil said, his eyes glinting dangerously. "So tell me, children. What offer would you make to salvage the ties between Mirkwood and Lothlorien?"

"Mirkwood, Lothlorien and Rivendell, my liege," corrected Rumil, his expression guarded but his eyes were bright with irritation. "Long have you held grudges against the Lord Elrond of Rivendell, blaming him for the death of your father and son. Thus it is their wish, both the Lady of Lothlorien's and the Lord of Rivendell's, to appease your anger in the hope that you will once more look upon them favourably."

A muscle clenched in the King's jaw at the mention of his kin. But otherwise, his face betrayed no emotion as he pondered over their words. Mirkwood's sovereignty was always threatened. Orcs had settled at the Misty Mountains and they had steadily drove Thranduil's people deeper and deeper into the forest. The King's people had always fought back. And they had always won. But for how long? How many more of his people must die before the threat is finally vanquished? With Rivendell and Lothlorien as allies, it would be easier to repel the onslaught of the attacks.

"And what will you give me?" the King said finally, "Treasures? There is no need for I have plenty within these walls. Archers? We do not need them either for the skills of Mirkwood bypass that of Rivendell or Lothlorien put together." There was a pause as the King smirked and the look that he placed upon the two brothers was nothing short of condensation. His eyes lingered upon the third, which had been silent throughout the entire conversation. Her head was covered still and was bowed so that the King could not see her face.

"We have brought you a gift, my liege. A rare jewel indeed from our land for she is related to both the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien and the Lady Celebrain of Rivendell. We leave her here under your protection, in hope that she would bind the three Great Cities together. Perhaps you will take her for your Queen for we have heard whispers in the wind of your wife's departure," said Orophin, his voice quiet and almost sad. And with that, the third Elf slowly drew back her hood.

She was beautiful - even more so with her long golden hair cascading down her slender back like that of the Lady Galadriel's. Even her skin seemed to glow in a similar manner. And when she raised her eyes to meet his, Thranduil could see that they were green. as green as the leaves in the forests of Mirkwood. It was in those eyes that he saw pride and strength and he thought that he had never seen such wonder before. The Lady was indeed a rare jewel. and it was his for taking.

Slowly and deliberately, the King stood and descended from his throne. He moved towards the Lady, eyes never taking off hers and he then walked around her, his insolent eyes raking down the length of that delicate body, lingering for a moment at her full breasts. The Lady said nothing but stood tall, her back impossibly straight. Thranduil continued to pace around her, sometimes leaning so close that he could almost smell the fragrance of her hair. When he looked into her eyes once more, he saw that they were emotionless. He smiled then. The first real smile he had had in centuries.

"The Gift pleases me. Tell your Lady and Lord that I have accepted their offer," he said and lifted a hand to beckon his attendants.

"So you will take her for your Queen," said Orophin, beginning to smile too; an honest smile of relief. But he should have known that there was nothing honest about Thranduil's smile. The King raised his eyebrow again.

"I have no need for a Queen. But as I have said, your Gift pleases me. You may leave now," he said, his smile never leaving his face as his eyes slid towards the Lady. It was as if she were carved out of ice. So cold was the look upon her face, and her eyes flashed with green sparks. But the King knew she would not forfeit their agreement. He understood pride when he saw it. And the Lady would rather die than to return to her people having failed to achieve what she was sent out to accomplish.

Rumil started to step forward towards the Lady, his face lined with fury. But the deed was done. There was no turning back. And the look in his Lady's eyes stopped him in his tracks. Fist clenched, the two brothers watched helplessly as the attendants started to lead her away towards the door at the far end of the hall. With a last parting glance at her kinsmen, she disappeared behind the curtains.

"Leave. No harm will come to her while she is under my protection. From now on, consider Mirkwood a friend of both Rivendell and Lothlorien," said the King, his face solemn now as he peered into the distressed faces of the brothers. Without another word, they bowed stiffly and left.

And that night, the Lady Annariel did not become Queen as was planned. Instead, she became the King's paramour.

**********

They bathed her in water that had been scattered with fresh petals of the wild flowers from the forest. She was treated gently, almost with reverence and after she was dried they had rubbed scented oil into her smooth skin. It was as if they were attending to their own Queen. But the clothes that she wore proved otherwise.

Thranduil entered her sleeping chamber and saw her sitting upon the edge of the bed, her head bowed once more. Her clothes were so sheer he could almost see the dusky outline of her nipples. The soft fabric clung to every contours of her body and the river of golden hair was left loose and rippling down her back. She was silent and did not look up when the King approached her.

He stood before the regal beauty and tilted her chin up, devouring her features with his eyes. Annariel. It was a beautiful name for one so fair as her. Her green eyes were glazed with unshed tears and her lips were compressed. He held her by her elbows and slowly but firmly pulled her up to stand before him. And she shut her eyes tightly.

Thranduil smiled softly. The Lady was afraid, this he knew. But she should not be for he did not intend to hurt her. By the end of the night, she would no longer dread his caresses. This he would personally make sure of. And he bent his head down, claiming her lips for his very own.

**********

Annariel lay upon the bed, dazed and breathless. Her chest was still heaving with the aftermath of their love-making and her legs were still wrapped around those strong, slim hips. Thranduil rested his head upon her breast, eyes closed as he waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest and return to normal. They were silent for a long while.

Then, without another word, the King pressed a kiss upon her sweaty brow, blessed her with a small smile, picked up his clothes and left the room. The click of the door as it closed seemed to echo in the empty room. And that was exactly how she felt. Empty.

Time seemed to crawl by. It was always such when one could not find comfort from their surrounding. Annariel became restless and after putting on her robes, she crept to the door and stepped outside into the hallway. Slowly and stealthily, she crept towards another door at the far end of the hall, opened it and stepped outside into a splendid garden. It was the King's own garden and no one was allowed to enter it safe for the King himself and his consort.

It was still dark but dawn was not too far away. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to rid this terrible sadness and loneliness in her heart. She looked up at the stars as she always did in her land at Lothlorien. She knew all the names of the stars. She knew how each one looked like and where precisely they are located in the skies. But there it was, one lone Star - a star that she had never seen before until tonight, twinkling brightly in the night sky. And hope flared in her chest with such a force that it almost hurt.

She smiled as she looked upon it. It shone brighter than the others, its light winking teasingly at first and then steadied, making its presence known amongst the other stars. Her head tossed back and she reached out a hand as if to stretch out to the heavens and touch it. It winked again and Annariel realized that she was crying. She was smiling but crying at the same time.

"Soon, Little Elf. Soon," she promised and she turned to head back to her room. A cool breeze caused the leaves in the trees to stir and one tumbled gently down from its branch and latched itself onto her hair. She plucked the green leaf from her golden tresses and looked upon it in wonder. She smiled.

Suddenly, she did not seem so lonely after all.


	2. Little Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Legolas makes an appearance in this Chapter.

The Sun shone brightly in the morning sky, bathing the Woods of Mirkwood with its rays, turning everything a light shade of green. It was a beautiful morning, quiet and lovely and it was supposed to be a day where the Wood Elves just sit back on their couches, sipping their finest wine. It was supposed to be just another normal day. But in reality it was not because someone from the palace had gone missing.

They had searched high and low, looking in the most unlikely places for that particular someone. One Elf looked into empty chests, hoping to find clues. Another Elf even suggested looking into the chamber pots and no one really wanted to but they did it anyway. But it was no use. Legolas seemed to have vanished into thin air.

"A nuisance. A pimple on the arse of all Elf race," someone had called him. And it was not a far off comment. Just last night, when Prince Amras had walked pass a huge vase, he had a shock of his life when he found that something had leapt out from behind the object and attached itself to his leg, its sharp teeth sinking into the hard calf, growling as it did.

At least the Prince had laughed, patting the top of the blond head and had asked Legolas if he was so hungry that he had to chew off his brother's leg. Legolas had said nothing but growled again in an appallingly unElvish manner. He continued to cling to Amras for more than two hours. The King had been astonished when the Prince had come into his study ( Thranduil had summoned his son in order to discuss some matters concerning the archers of Lothlorien coming to Mirkwood to horn their shooting skills) - Amras had shuffled his way carefully into the room so as to avoid dislodging his new, strange appendage. Adar had been most displeased.

And just a few weeks ago, Legolas had caused a minor uproar when he had decided to climb atop the tallest tree in Mirkwood. He had perched precariously upon a branch, calling out at the top of his young lungs, his voice shrill and delighted, "I see land! I see land!" as he shaded his eyes with his long fingers, peering down into the sea of frantic faces beneath him.

"Come down, Little Elf! Come down!" they had cried but Legolas had laughed out, his fair head thrown back with childlike abandonment; laughing a long, loud, carefree laughter. And when he laughed, no one could stay angry with him, for the very sound served to chase away the gloom from one's heart.

In fact, his laughter had at one point of time created history in Mirkwood after several decades of uneventful years. Legolas and his other young friends had sat upon a branch of a strange, large, tree, jumping up and down in glee, laughing so loudly that the tree actually fell over in shock.

Of course the commotion that followed was expected. But after seeing that none of the Elflings were crushed by the fallen tree (they had only just sprang away in the nick of time), the Elves were given the opportunity to communicate with the old Ent who had apparently stood for so long and was so still in the forests of Mirkwood that he had forgotten that he was an Ent - until he heard Legolas' laughter in his ear.

All in all however, the event ended without any major mishap and they had parted on good terms. The Ent had ambled off, perhaps in pursuit of a quieter place to stand and pretend that he was a tree once more. Legolas had named him Old Funny Face.

So the search party that had been sent out had had much experience in looking for Legolas. For nine years they had been on their toes, awaiting the unexpected whenever the young Elf left the safety of the palace walls. He would usually be accompanied by many attendants (mostly belonging to his mother) for fear that he would cause more trees to fall down or accidentally drown himself when he tried to see if he could breathe under water like the 'pretty fish' in the pool.

But they were careless today, allowing Legolas' sweet smile and his excited babble to lull them into a false sense of security. Lady Annariel had been very worried, wringing her fair hands as she scoured the woods for signs of her son. The King had, of course, been most displeased.

They had split up and had searched the premises in an organized manner, calling out for Legolas. And despite her worry, Annariel smiled. Her son was always good at hiding and it required much skill and patience to track him down. The Elf may be only nine years of age, but he could keep himself hidden from the full grown Elves for as long as he wanted. Annariel could only hope that Legolas did not choose to stay hidden for the entire day. His father would be even more displeased indeed.

"Whoaahaarrraghh!" screamed a voice from behind her and she pivoted around sharply, her hands flying to her mouth, muffling her cry of surprise. And she found that she was looking at a familiar and yet, unrecognisable face. She then realized why. Legolas was upside down; his knees were hooked over a branch as he dangled head first from it, pulling the most bizarre of faces as he did so.

"Did I frighten you, Nana, huh? Huh? Did I?" he cried out, laughing his beautiful laughter, his hair swaying gently as his body rocked to and fro. Annariel tried not to smile. She feared that she might encourage him to continue putting himself in danger like that. But it was hard because no one could stay angry with her Little Elf. She managed to keep her face solemn, however, which was also hard because the corners of her lips kept twitching.

Legolas dropped nimbly from the tree, twirling neatly in mid-air so that he landed lightly on his feet. He saw the look upon his mother's face and was immediately ashamed that he had made her worry. He hugged her around her waist as he usually did in a manner of apology. The first time he did that was when he was three years old, for he had accidentally set his brother's hair on fire.

Teril had forgiven him, albeit reluctantly, when he remembered the frightened Elfling clinging to him, his eyes wide at the spectacular sight of his elder brother's hair going up in flames. The attendants had been hysterical as they endeavoured to put out the fire with their scarves.

But still, Teril had thought, no one could stay angry when Legolas hugged you like that. After his hair had grown back to its former glory, he found that he could laugh again whenever Legolas teasingly waved a lighted candle before him, calling out "Poof! Hair went poof!" - Although, he had since became more careful to stay far away from the Elfling when he did that.

Thus, Annariel felt that she did not have the heart to put on a stern face for her son. Legolas looked up into her face, his eyes impossibly blue and his fair hair tumbled untidily around his face. He looked very much like his father and many had said that he had gotten his good nature from his mother - although it was uncertain where he got his mad streak from.

"You could have hurt yourself, Legolas," she said, her expression softening. Legolas knew then that he was being gently chastised because his Nana almost never called him by his given name unless she was reprimanding him. But he smiled when he saw the smile on his mother's face. He could read her like a book and he knew that she was not angry with him.

"Would that make you sad, Nana?" he asked, hugging her even more tightly.

"Of course it would. You are my Little Elf. If you get hurt, I will be very sad indeed," she murmured, bending down to press a kiss on top of his tousled head. "Come now. Prince Amras and his wife have just gotten a new Elfling. It is time you meet your new cousin."

Little Elf clapped his hands with joy. "Can I play with him, Nana?" he cried, prancing around and flapped his arms in excitement.

"Not yet. He is too little," she answered and Legolas stopped abruptly, becoming uncharacteristically still.

"Then I am no longer to be called 'Little Elf'?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with dismay.

Annariel stroked his hair and smiled reassuringly. "You will always be my Little Elf." And Legolas was calmed, tamed for the moment, because he knew that his mother would never lie.

The new baby was named Iruven, after the King's first born.

**********

Little Elf was restless and perhaps just a little grumpy. The baby had been ridiculously tiny and wrinkled, almost as wrinkled as Old Funny Face himself. But Adar, Amras and Teril had fawned over it as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. Legolas wondered why Adar never kissed him the way he kissed baby Iruven. After all, Legolas knew that he was the most beautiful thing in Mirkwood. He knew this because Nana had told him so and Nana never lied.

His mother had been silent, gently holding Legolas to her as he clung around her waist in apprehension when the 'thing' latched itself upon its mother's breast. It looked hungry and Legolas was afraid that it might jump on him and bite him as how he had bitten Amras yesterday. He had hoped that baby Iruven would not be angry that Legolas had bitten the baby's father the night before.

But that had been hours ago and Legolas thought that there was only so many times one could be hugged and kissed before one gets tired of the attention. The adults looked very silly, making gurgling noises and even Adar looked silly with the awe-struck expression playing upon his face as he stroked the baby's brown hair. It was boring and Legolas left the room to escape into the open. Nana let him go. No one stopped him. No one (save Nana) even noticed he was gone.

So now he strolled under the darkening skies, amidst the woods. It would be sometime before he could return to Nana's room because always, at night, Adar would be there for several hours. Sometimes he would be there until dawn and Legolas would sit outside her room, knees brought to his chest, rocking himself to and fro as he waited patiently for Adar to leave. Sometimes he would fall asleep out there in the hallway and Nana would come out to carry him onto her bed.

He was never allowed inside when Adar was there. Nana told him it was because Adar needed to tell her something. Legolas believed her but was not too sure why it needed to take so long and why when they were in the room, they never seem to talk at all, just make strange, unfamiliar sounds. Nana had suggested that Legolas rest in his own room but he had refused because he always - always - cuddle up to Nana at night while she rocked him to sleep. He had been doing that for nine years. Why should he stop now?

His feet somehow brought him automatically to the bathing pool which was located somewhere near the heart of the forest, far from prying eyes. Legolas liked to sit on top of this one particular tree. just sit there - the thick growth of leaves hiding him from other Elves, looking down at the still blue waters and he would feel happy. He crept up his tree, pretending to be stalking an enemy Elf (Iruven perhaps?), his footsteps light and his ears alert for sounds. He looked up and prepared himself to climb up the trunk but stopped short when he realized that there was already someone in it.

It was another Elf and he had a strangely coloured hair. Not golden like Adar's or Nana's and not dark like the other Elves in Mirkwood either. The Elf's hair was a curious shade of silver and in the moonlight, it shone like the stars. Legolas cocked his head and then crept stealthily up the tree. The Elf did not seem to notice him as his back was turned towards Legolas, his attention focused in the direction of the pool. His hands kept fidgeting and his breathing was harsh.

"Greetings," Legolas said and the other Elf nearly fell out of the tree in shock as he hastily rearranged the front of his leggings. He turned around then and the fear in his eyes quickly turned to surprise and then annoyance.

"You should not creep up on another Elf like that. It is rude," he said in a proud voice, his arms folding itself across his chest.

"Why?" Legolas said, folding his arms across his chest also, his face mirroring the expression on the Elf's face.

"Hush! Do not speak too loudly," he said, his eyes nervously darting towards the pool once more.

"Why?" Legolas asked as he shifted along the branch to sit next to the Elf and the older Elf looked upon him with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.

"Do not come near. It is best you go back to your home, Little Elf," he said impatiently. And Legolas was surprised.

"How did you know my name?" he cried, forgetting to lower his voice and giggled when the older Elf looked around in a panicked state. When he saw that no one heard Legolas, he turned back to look back at his face in puzzlement.

"What kind of a name is Little Elf?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed, "It is most uncommon to be named as such."

It was Legolas' turn to look exasperated.

"It was a pet name given to me by my mother. My real name is Legolas," he said stiffly and the silver haired Elf sniggered.

"You are named after a leaf?" he said, chortling as quietly as he could and Legolas scowled at him.

"What name do you go by?" he said grumpily as he tilted his chin towards the older Elf in challenge.

"Haldir. I am from the woods of Lothlorien," he said, straightening his back importantly. "I came here with my brothers to practise our archery skills." And Legolas stared at him.

"My Nana was from Lothlorien. She misses her home very much," he said suddenly and Haldir looked at him in surprise.

"What is your mother's name?" he asked and Legolas smirked at him.

"I am not telling you. Nosy," he teased as he bounced once upon the branch causing the leaves to rustle frantically. Haldir looked frightened. Legolas wondered if the older Elf was afraid of heights and he bounced some more.

"Stop! Stop that!" Haldir hissed and he reached out to grab Legolas, wrapping his strong arms around the slender Elf's body. Legolas wriggled like a fish against Haldir's warm body, giggling madly, and Haldir clapped a hand over his mouth. "They will hear you!" he whispered in Legolas' ear, his voice nervous and Legolas stopped, his eyes chancing to look in the direction of the bathing pool. His brows furrowed and he pulled Haldir's hand away from his mouth.

"What are they doing?" he asked with some surprise as he peered through the leaves shielding them from plain view. In the distance he saw two male Elves engaging in a very queer activity. Haldir turned very pale indeed and reached out to cover Legolas' eyes.

"You must not look. You are too young," he said, his hands striving to keep Legolas' eyes covered as Legolas squirmed away from Haldir. When he escaped Haldir's clutches, he immediately bent forward to get a better look, ignoring Haldir's protests. And under the bright moonlight, he could see the two Elves very clearly and their voices were loud and clear in the still night air.

"Rumil. Please. You are killing me," an unfamiliar male voice moaned and Legolas was alarmed.

"He is killing him!" he cried, turning to face Haldir. Haldir just stared at him, looking as if he did not know whether to laugh or cry with vexation.

"Gods. it feels so good!" came the groan.

"It feels. good?" Legolas said, his eyebrows raised and eyes widened in puzzlement. This was interesting. He never knew that people enjoyed being killed. Ah well. as Nana once said. you learn new things everyday.

The two young Elves watched quietly from their perch. Legolas was scandalized. He had never heard anyone making so much noise before. Someone had definitely exaggerated when they said that he was too noisy. Why, those two elves were making enough noise to wake the trees. And all of a sudden Legolas found the situation incredibly funny.

Haldir studied Legolas. The younger Elf had his back turned to him and he was given the opportunity to admire his form. Legolas was still young, but his beauty was enough to take Haldir's breath away. Little Elf (here Haldir smiled a little at the name) had incredibly soft, blond hair - a hair colour that was not common in Lothlorien and he wondered briefly how it would feel beneath his fingers.

The young Elf had been very strong. Haldir could feel his strength when he had struggled free from his embrace and Haldir knew that Little Elf would grow up to be a very fine male Elf indeed. He looked at the narrow shoulders and frowned a little - they were trembling. His frown deepened when he came to realize that the Elf's whole body was quivering.

"Legolas?" Haldir asked. Silence. Haldir wondered if it were possible for one as young as Legolas to be affected by what he saw. He did not think it was but still.

"Are you alright?" he ventured and Legolas shook his head violently, his arm now thrown over his mouth. Gently Haldir cupped the Elf's cheek and turned Legolas' face towards his. He looked into the angelic face. and his eyes widened in disbelief - Legolas' face was red (it was quickly turning purple by the minute) and his eyes were filled with tears. He was laughing. Or at least he was laughing, but trying not to, biting down hard on his arm to stop any sound from coming out from his mouth.

"No. Please. Don't," Haldir said, shaking his own head. This was bad. Legolas' body quivered even more. which was worse. Haldir would always remember the moment clearly. and in slow motion. First the arm fell away and a choking sound emitted from the Elf. Haldir was still shaking his head in denial of the inevitable. The blond head fell back as Legolas turned his face upward, facing the heavens. The howl of laughter that erupted from those lips sealed the older Elf's doom.

Immediately a cry was heard from the direction of the pool. Rumil and his lover scrambled for their clothes, putting them on with amazing speed. Haldir scooted past the laughing lunatic, parting the leaves to see if his brother had identified the direction of their hiding place. It would not be hard for them to be found because not only was Legolas still laughing but he was now banging his small fists against the tree. Haldir could have murdered him there and then. if it had not been for the fact that his eyes met Rumil's narrowed gaze.

"Ah no," he moaned in dismay as his brother charged towards his direction. He sprang to life as he crouched down before Legolas. "Hurry! Hold on to me!" he cried in growing alarm and fervently gave thanks to the Gods when Legolas did just that without any questions asked. And he leapt down from the tree, fleeing into the darkness as Legolas clung to him like a monkey on his back.

"Get back here!" growled Rumil. "I'm going to kill you!" 

"Haldir! They're going to kill you! Isn't that wonderful? Why don't you let them? It'll feel good!" hollered Legolas, shrieking with laughter and delight. Haldir gave an inward groan when he heard his brother's outraged cry.

And so the four Elves raced onwards, under the moonlight, through the forest of Mirkwood; Legolas crying with mirth upon Haldir's back as Haldir sprinted wildly through the trees, and Rumil hot on their heels. No one knew exactly if Rumil did catch up with the two young elves but one thing was for sure - it marked the beginning of a wonderful friendship between Legolas of Mirkwood and Haldir of Lorien.


	3. Adar

It had been another normal day in the Forest of Mirkwood and Legolas Greenleaf had just turned twelve years of age. There had been a loud and rambunctious celebration by the bathing pool which involved a naked sprint through the woods, tossing Little Elf into the pool and swimming in the nude. The idea had been Haldir's of course, and although Rumil and Orophin had expressed their reluctance at the prospect of showing their bits to two underage Elves, Haldir scoffed at their apprehension, saying that there was nothing that he and Legolas had not seen already.

And so they had agreed and had invented a story of how Elves used to show their endurance by running naked and barefooted in the forest of Lothlorien. Legolas had believed them, accepting their challenge to do the same in the Forest of Mirkwood and the four friends had stripped together. The moment Legolas had his leggings off, they made a move to grab the young Elfling - with the intention of tossing him into the pool. So Legolas had run away, dodging their outstretched hands, torn between laughter and exasperation.

But they easily caught up with him and grabbed him by his hands and legs. And with a count of one, two and three, they had unceremoniously hurled the screaming figure into the water - which was rather unfortunate because it was winter and the water was freezing. The three brothers had jumped in with him and Orophin made a crude remark about his bits shrinking into the size of an acorn because of the cold. Legolas had laughed, saying "Huh? I thought your bits were *already* the size of an acorn!" And of course, Orophin had not been amused. So, he had stolen Legolas clothes and left him standing in the pool to freeze.

Rumil and Haldir had hunted for Orophin who had mysteriously disappeared with Little Elf's clothes, cursing and laughing at the same time, while Legolas tried hard not to shiver as he stood naked in the pool. And that was how his Adar found him and judging from the carefully masked expression of Thranduil and the kind smile of Lord Elrond, Legolas knew that he was in trouble. He had stammered his apologies, all the while bending his knees so that the King and his guest could not see his privates. Legolas was mortified and the three brothers were curiously no where to be found.

Annariel was summoned and she rushed to the scene, bearing large amount of towels to wrap Legolas' still naked body which was slowly turning blue. Adar had just spared him a look that chilled Little Elf even more than the water and had left without saying a word to his son. He did not even look back to see Nana crying because Legolas was so cold he could not move his fingers and feet and Nana had had to carry him to her room.

That had been two weeks ago and Adar's anger showed no sign of relenting. Legolas had been denied the opportunity to play with Haldir and there were rumours that Orophin had requested to see Legolas to apologize for taking his clothes. Legolas did not think that there was any need for apologies because he knew that that had all been done in fun. It was just that he had been unlucky enough to be seen having fun by his father.

He also knew that the three brothers had hidden in the trees when Adar had stood by the pool, his frosty blue eyes fixed upon Legolas' trembling body. But he did not mind them hiding because he did not want them to get into trouble. It was better that Adar got angry at Legolas than the three brothers, thought Little Elf. At least he could stay in Mirkwood. Haldir and his brothers would probably be sent back to Lothlorien in disgrace and that was a worse punishment than being locked up in your room for two weeks.

But the worst punishment (in Legolas' opinion) was the fact that Legolas was not allowed to sleep with Nana at night. And that made him sad. Sometimes (not all the time) he would cry because he missed her so much and he knew she missed him too because she would always stand outside his door and speak to him for a long time. It did not matter what she said, Legolas had thought as he sat on the floor and pressed his ear against the bolted door, because it was enough to hear his Nana's voice.

Everyday was an eternity and every night was pure loneliness and Legolas thought to himself that loneliness was a curse so terrible that he feared that he might go mad with the sheer misery of it. And it was a strange feeling because he had never felt anything like that before. He felt a hunger so intense it hurt him. The hunger for his Nana's voice, the hunger for Haldir's laughter and even the hunger for Adar's frowns. Anything would be better than this emptiness in his heart.

He tried to find ways to entertain himself. In the days, he jumped up and down his bed, imagining that he was on the tree tops with Haldir - jumping, jumping, jumping up and down the tallest tree in the whole of Middle Earth. And at night, he sat with his knees to his forehead, and rocked to and fro, imagining that he was safe and happy once again in Nana's arms.

**********

It was the beginning of spring in Mirkwood when the last frost had melted from the trees, and Legolas was restless once more. He had long ago been allowed to leave his room and when he had first stepped out and had looked at Nana looking at him, his lips had wobbled so much that Nana cried again and brought him to her room, and held him the whole day while Legolas shivered and trembled.

But that was weeks ago and although Legolas still was not allowed to see Haldir and his brothers, at least he had baby Iruven to play with. Iruven was now three years old and was a beautiful baby Elf. His smile was like sunshine and he worshipped Legolas, following him around like a puppy and Legolas loved Iruven too. Legolas wished that Iruven could play with him all day but he knew that other people would want to play with Iruven too - and he would wait patiently in a corner of the dining hall when Iruven sat on Adar's lap, playing with a lock of that regal, blond hair and giggling when the King tickled Iruven. And Legolas would feel lonely once more seeing Adar and Iruven playing together.

But he was happy when Iruven played with him. 'Wittle Ewef', Iruven had called him, making Legolas laugh. The first time he laughed he was a little surprised by the sound because he had almost forgotten what it felt like to laugh. But he was glad and he pulled funny faces, making Iruven laugh even more. All in all, it was a good life. It was all he could ever hope for.

So one fine morning, Legolas asked Prince Amras for permission to bring Iruven to the bathing pool to look at the 'pretty fish'. Amras had smiled, nodded his head and ruffled Legolas' hair and the Little Elf unconsciously leaned into the touch. It had been so long that someone other than Nana had done that. And sometimes when he saw Adar, Teril and Amras stroking Iruven's brown hair, Legolas wanted to be petted too. He wanted to be told that he was beautiful, as how Adar had told Iruven when Adar peered down into the sleeping face of the baby as Iruven lay in his cot. And he wanted to be looked at with that warm, funny look that Adar had fixed upon Iruven whenever Adar thought that no one was looking. And at times like that, his heart would hurt. But he did not know why.

In any case, Iruven sat upon Legolas' young, strong shoulders as he ran, ran, ran through the woods, Iruven squealing in glee and Legolas laughing because Iruven was happy.

"Wun! Wittle Ewef wun fast!" Iruven said, his voice shrill and happy, his arms grabbing Legolas' head to prevent himself from falling off.

"No! No! I am too tired!" cried Little Elf but he ran faster anyway and those who heard their laughter could not help but smile as well - because the one who could not be charmed when Legolas and Iruven laughed must be one who had a heart of stone indeed.

They reached the edge of the pool and Legolas held Iruven's hand so that the baby would not wander too close to the water edge. They squatted side by side on a boulder, throwing little pieces of bread into the pool; pointing excitedly at the fish in the pool and speaking in a language only known to young Elves.

"Fish! Fish swim! Pink Fish!" cried Iruven and babbled in his baby speech which Legolas understood perfectly well. He answered in kind, making little gurgles and Iruven gurgled back, laughing all the time.

"No! No!" yelped Legolas when Iruven wanted to lean forward to touch the water. Iruven had been fascinated by the little bubbles and ripples in the water that the fish made as they nibbled upon the floating bread at the water surface. Legolas then had an idea. He decided to collect some sticks so that Iruven could toss them into the pool.

"Stay here. Don't move," he instructed and Iruven giggled but he listened to what Legolas asked him to do, sitting down and became very still, hardly breathing. And Legolas turned around and walked away from the rocky surface, walking towards the forest edge, looking for some broken branches. It did not take more than a minute but when he turned to look back at the water-edge, Iruven was gone.

A fear that he had never felt before ripped through his body - his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

"Iruven!" he said, his eyes wide as he dashed towards the water's edge. Faint bubbles could be seen breaking the water surface. Baby Iruven had fallen into the water. With a cry of dismay and terror, Legolas jumped in after his cousin.

The water stung his eyes but he kept them open. The floor was full of large pit holes as it progressed nearer to the middle of the pool. It was where Legolas had thought he had last seen the bubbles. Perhaps, somehow, Iruven had managed to float all the way to the middle of the pool.

Legolas' chest constricted with lack of air and the pressure increased upon his lungs as he swam deeper and deeper into one of the pit holes. The cold water did nothing to ease his search for the baby and he was forced to surface, taking a huge gulping breath and dived back into the chilly blueness once more, trashing his way underwater towards the middle of the pool. But he was slowly becoming tired and still he could not find the baby. It was the first time he panicked. He did not know what else to do.

"Haldir," he choked out when he resurfaced once more, calling out the first name that came to his mind. And then he screamed it. He was frightened. Baby Iruven had been under water for three whole minutes.

He continued calling out for Haldir and after sometime (of which the wait was excruciating), a figure burst out from the thick undergrowth. It was Haldir. Haldir had come. And Haldir would help him. Haldir would make things right.

"What happened?" cried the older Elf as he sprinted up towards the shivering figure, struggling to thread water.

"Iruven. He fell," sobbed Little Elf, his breath hitching in his throat. And with that, Haldir plunged into the depths of the pool.

Legolas' young muscles were cramping up and he could barely keep afloat. The cold seemed to pierce him through the very bone and every breath he took brought about pain in his chest. He struggled to the shore and dragged himself out of the water. He waited, his heart pounding in his breast, and his chest heaved with every breath he took.

After what seemed like eternity, Haldir's head burst from the water surface. Iruven was in his arms. The baby's eyes were closed. He was not breathing. Legolas leapt to his feet, nearly tugging his hair out in worry.

"How is he? Why is he sleeping?" Legolas cried as Haldir laid Iruven on solid ground. Legolas reached out to gently slap Iruven's face. There was no movement. Quickly Haldir bent his ear to the baby's face, listening for any signs of breathing. There were none. So the Elf proceeded to blow air into the still figure, at the same time trying to pump the water from the baby's chest.

"Wake up, Iruven. Wake up," Legolas murmured, wrapping his arms around himself as he rocked frantically to and fro.

And then the baby's chest heaved. Once. Twice. And he coughed up water from his lungs. Haldir helped the baby up to an upright position, as Iruven retched, shuddering as the cold water slipped from his mouth. Haldir murmured soothingly and Iruven began to cry. The baby reached out for Legolas and Little Elf grabbed him, hugging him to his chest. Haldir wrapped his arms around both Elves. And for a while, they just said there in silence.

**********

The silence that greeted them was deafening as shocked eyes regarded the three bedraggled figure walking slowly through the great hall. Baby Iruven was carried by Haldir with one hand and the other held Legolas' as Little Elf walked meekly by his side. One had only to look at the baby's blue skin and Legolas' frightened expression to know what happened. And so the King and the Prince was summoned.

Prince Amras rushed towards his son, wrapping him up with his cloak, trying to rub warmth into the cold skin. He left without a word - without so much of a backward glance towards Legolas as he whispered words of love to the shivering Baby. The King stood before Haldir and Legolas, also not saying a word.

"It was an accident, my liege," Haldir began, his arms stretched out in appeal. "Please forgive him." The King's cold eyes fixed themselves upon Haldir and slid towards Legolas who was clutching the back of Haldir's tunic, his teeth chattering both with the cold and fear.

"Leave. All of you. I wish to speak to him," he said, his voice deceivingly soft, the expression in his eyes kept blank. And that was how Legolas knew that Adar was most displeased with him.

Haldir balked but at the corner of his eye he saw Rumil and Orophin's solemn faces. And so he bowed stiffly. With a last lingering look at Legolas, he left the hall with his brothers. All who were in the hall at that point of time left also and the great door closed behind them, leaving Legolas alone with his father.

The first crack of the palm to his face was expected. But it stunned him all the same, causing his head to snap back with the sheer force of it. Legolas held his stinging cheek, his eyes wide and brimming.

"I'm sorry Adar. I'm sorry. So sorry," he murmured repeatedly, his voice choked with tears. It took two more blows to make him cry and three more to bring him down on all fours, crouching before his father, and his hands were over his head trying to protect his face.

"You could have killed Iruven," hissed Adar, and Legolas just stayed on the floor, accepting his punishment, his body tensed in anticipation for each blow. And it hurt. Legolas did not know how long he could take it. He knelt before Thranduil, begged him for forgiveness and even threw his arms around his father's waist as how he usually did in manner of apology. But Adar flung him off as if he were a filthy dog. And Legolas fell once more on all fours.

"I'm sorry Adar," he cried out with every downward movement of his Father's palm to his face. But his father would not listen.

"My lord, please! No more! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, my liege," he screamed, his young voice shrill and filled with anguish. But the King did not listen, and so Little Elf screamed for his mother.

Nana came just when Legolas thought that he would pass out from the pain. Her attendants tried to hold her back. They tried to protect her from the King's wrath but she broke free, her golden hair streaming behind her as she rushed towards her son.

"No my lord! He is just a child!" she cried, tears streaming down her face as she knelt next to Legolas, her arms wrapped themselves around his trembling body, trying to protect Little Elf. Trying to take the blows for her son.

"Leave us, Annariel!" Thranduil snapped, his eyes now flashing with anger, his palm raised in preparation for another blow.

"Nay! Do not hurt him!" she screamed, her arm rising to push the King's hand away. Thranduil leaned down to grab Legolas away from his mother. 'Crack. Crack.' Went his palm and both mother and son screamed their anguish. Annariel tried to push Legolas behind her and some of the blows landed on her body. But she did not care.

"Leave!" Thranduil roared and his palm curled into a loose fist. The blow was meant for Legolas but Annariel still stood before her son, trying to shield him. With a loud oath, he dragged her away roughly. Annariel lost her balance and she fell, her forehead striking against the ground. There was a stunned silence and then Legolas cried out, his lone voice strident and filled with anger.

"Nay! Kill me if you must, my lord, if it pleases you. But do not hurt my mother!" he shrieked, covering the Nana's motionless figure with his small body, trying to protect her.

Thranduil just stared at Annariel and Legolas. Stared at the son, clinging to his mother. Stared at the blood that had begun to seep from Annariel's wound. He stared for a long time and Legolas stared back. It was as if he were looking in a mirror. And all the pain that his memory brought came back in full force. In his mind he saw not Legolas holding onto his mother but him, clinging to his dead son.

The King took a step backward. And then another. And then like a leaf being blown away in the wind, he disappeared into the shadows.

**********

Legolas lay on Nana's bed, curling up next to his mother, looking intently at her pale face. The worst was over and the wound upon his mother's head had healed. All that was left was an ugly, purple bruise. And Legolas felt his eyes filling with tears once more as he lifted his fingers to stroke his mother's face. Annariel held Legolas tightly, her own throat seemed to constrict with emotions.

"Why does he not love us, Nana?" came the whisper. "Why does he not love me?"

Annariel did not know what to say. And so she looked away so that Legolas could not see the truth in her eyes.

"Of course he does, Little Elf. How could anyone not love you?" she murmured, stroking his hair. Legolas was silent.

"He pushed me away," he choked out suddenly. "He pushed me away when I tried to hold him, Nana."

"He did not mean to do it. One does strange and hurtful things when they are angered."

Silence.

"If there was one who loved me, I would never push them away. I would love them back."

"It is a wonderful thing to love and be loved in return. Not all of us are able to have that kind of love, Little Elf."

Legolas looked up into his mother's face, his eyes were solemn.

"Will I find a love like that, Nana?"

"My Little Elf. The one who will love you will also worship you. And you must settle for no less then that."

Legolas snuggled closed to his mother.

"I wish we were in Lothlorien, with our people. They would love us more, I think," he whispered, reaching out to play with a lock of Nana's hair. And again Annariel did not know what to say. She kissed his fingers and his face tenderly.

"Sing to me of Nimrodel, Nana," he whispered, his eyes fluttering close with exhaustion. And Annariel did, her sweet voice lulling Little Elf into slumber.

**********

The sound of the door being opened awakened Legolas. He cracked open an eye and what he saw caused him to sit bolt upright. The King was standing at the door. Legolas' eyes shot towards his mother in apprehension. Annariel did not look at her son, her narrowed gaze fixed upon Thranduil.

There was a short silence upon which Annariel and Thranduil continued to gaze at one another.

"Leave us, Legolas," said Thranduil. And Legolas became afraid, clutching Nana desperately as a whimper escaped from his lips.

"Do as he says, Little Elf," Nana said, her voice reassuring and gentle. Legolas stepped out of the bed, wincing a little at the pain. He strode towards the King, not meeting his eyes. With a solemn bow, he limped away, closing the door behind him.

"You never called him by his name before," Annariel said, the trembling in her voice revealed the anger and sorrow that she carried in her heart.

Thranduil said nothing but moved slowly towards Annariel, as if he were approaching a bird that would fly away if he made any sudden movements. He sat next to her on the bed, his eyes never taking off those beautiful green eyes. His fingers lifted to caress the mark on her forehead. And then he froze. Annariel was pressing a dagger right at his throat.

"I never want to see you touch my son again. Ever!" she hissed. Thranduil was silent, his thoughtful gaze fixed upon Annariel. Her lips quivered.

"He is all I have, my lord. You will be blessed with many grandchildren in the future. But Legolas is all I have. Do not take him away from me," she said. She was crying but her tears were silent. Thranduil moved his face closer to hers, and the dagger pricked the soft skin of his neck, drawing blood.

They kissed and Annariel dropped the weapon. Thranduil lingered over her, touching and caressing her to the peak of her fulfilment. Every now and again, he would brush his lips across her forehead and when he bent down to suckle at her breast; Annariel would grab him desperately, her hands running over those broad, strong shoulders. It was the first time she was allowed to do so. It was also the first time that Thranduil stayed with her the entire night, holding her close to his heart as the last shivers of completion melt away from her body.

Annariel understood that it was the closest thing to an apology that she would get.

And outside the room, a small figure sat with his arms wrapped around himself, rocking to and fro.


	4. Nana

The Forest of Mirkwood was alive with the sounds of cheers and delighted cries. A tournament: and it was being held in a courtyard in front of the palace. It was a friendly match, consisting of archery and sword play between the Elves of Lothlorien and those of Mirkwood. Many had come to see the three brothers from Lothlorien - most of them were Elf maidens - who had hopes of seeking the affections of the handsome trio, especially the beautiful Haldir, who had only just recently reached his majority. But if the truth be known, it was Legolas, the King's illegitimate son, that attracted the most attention, for although he was young (no more than sixteen years of age) he was a fierce competitor and a worthy adversary.

The challenge was conducted thus: Each Elf (only the males) was allowed to enter the two competitions at the same time, but, they must have a challenger before they were able to compete. So far, the Elves from Mirkwood had trailed a little behind in terms of sword-fighting, but they were putting up a good fight where archery was concerned. And as Legolas was still young, he could only take part in the archery contest, although not many wanted to challenge him at first for they thought that he would be too easy to defeat.

But the young Elf had put many of Lothlorien's Elves to shame, calmly and easily hitting the target right in the centre. Rumil and his brothers had smiled secretly whenever that happened. No one knew that Legolas had been taking archery lessons from the three, and Legolas, who was quick and eager to learn, had easily mastered the techniques for he had very keen eyes and was also a hard worker. His bow was of a smaller version as compared to the bows of 'Lorien and of Mirkwood, whittled by Haldir himself as a gift on the younger Elf's fifteenth birthday.

The King was seated in his chair on an elevated podium, leaning forward as his eyes focused intently upon the action that was taking place below. His consort sat next to him, wearing a white dress and looking twice as beautiful in the morning sun - her hair glowing with a rich, gold colour, which put even the sun to shame. On her face was a small smile as she watched her son sending yet another Lothlorien Elf out of the tournament in disgrace, the older Elf shaking his head in disbelief at the thought of being beaten by a mere Elfling.

On the whole, it was a good day for Mirkwood, as well as Lothlorien. Prince Teril had secured third position in the sword-fighting contest, losing to Orophin, of Lothlorien. Apparently, one of the audiences (from Mirkwood), cried foul, for he had seen the 'Lorien Elf leering at the Prince in a most indecent manner, causing the Prince to lose his concentration. But there was no rule stating that one Elf could not leer at the other. So the match was considered to be fairly won.

The first place went to Rumil, also of Lothlorien. The match was a strange one for it involved the two adversaries wrestling one another rather than engaging in normal sword-fighting. It was reported the Haldir had snorted while Legolas had just smiled and looked away. Victory was won when Rumil pinned Orophin to the floor, sword pressed to his neck.

"You are dead, brother. I have killed you," Rumil had said in a self- satisfied tone of voice. Someone swore afterwards that he had heard Legolas' choked laughter and immediately after that, Haldir had strangely cried out, "Did it feel good, Orophin?" No one understood why Rumil and Orophin had pounced upon their youngest brother, trying to choke the life out of him. But seeing that they needed Haldir for the final tournament, they decided that they could kill him later.

"Feel good? I'll show him how good it feels. Wait till I get my hands on him," muttered Rumil, as Orophin patted his brother's head sympathetically, but grinned at the same time. The folks of Mirkwood looked on compassionately also. They had heard that the Wood Elves of 'Lorien were queer folks, and one could only extend their pity to their parents for bringing them forth onto the earth.

The archery competition proved to be the most exciting of all. Haldir was a wonder to look at, skilfully hitting the targets dead centre every time he let his arrows fly. Prince Amras had lost to him, and like his brother, also getting third place. Only one other Elf remained, and he represented the Elves of Mirkwood. The King and his consort leaned forward in their seats slightly as Legolas and Haldir bowed to each other in respect before taking their positions.

"Stop," said Thranduil, raising his hand. All eyes turned to look at the King. His lips were curled in a light smile and his expression was serene, but his eyes held a strange glitter in them.

"Let us raise the stakes a little," he continued. Silence greeted him, but he was not disturbed by it. "The winner of this archery competition will be granted a wish. Whatever is it you desire, and if it is within my powers to give it to you, I will."

Murmurs broke out, washing over the sea of Elves like a wave. Legolas' eyes were fastened upon the King, his expression thoughtful. Haldir smirked.

"Be sure you are able to keep your words, my lord, for I shall not lose," he declared, tossing his head proudly. The Elf Maidens giggled behind their hands, fluttering their eyelashes at the silver-haired Elf. Haldir pompously blew kisses in their direction. The King just tilted his head to one side, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"So be it. May the better archer win," he said, his voice ringing loud and clear. And with that, the final match began.

The competition was fierce. Every arrow that was launched hit the centre of the target. It went on for ten rounds and one wondered how it would end. The atmosphere was tense and it was mirrored upon both Haldir's and Legolas' faces. After the twentieth round, a new rule was created: it was to be a tie breaker.

"You can only shoot once. Pick a target. Any target. The audiences' reaction to the accuracy of your shot will decide the winner of this competition," said the King while the Elves stirred excitedly, the volume of their chatter increasing all the time.

Haldir bowed very low before the King and looked to Rumil standing some distance away from where he was. His brother understood and then placed his hand on the trunk of a tree. Haldir took aim. And fired.

The crowd stood up in excitement, clapping wildly. The arrow had landed neatly in the space between Rumil's thumb and index finger, without causing any hurt to his brother's hand. Haldir bowed again, this time to the female Elves who were beside themselves in their exuberant show of support for him. Legolas just stood silently, his face solemn. The crowd quieten down, nearly holding their breaths in anticipation.

"Give up while you can, Little Elf," Orophin cried out, grinning widely. Giggles broke out but still Legolas remained silent.

"How badly do you want to win, Little Elf?" said Haldir, his eyes twinkling teasingly.

Legolas took aim, silently signalling for Rumil to stay put. The smile upon Rumil's face faded a bit but he kept his hand upon the trunk, the arrow still buried deep into the tree trunk between his two fingers.

"How badly do I want to win?" murmured Legolas, holding his aim steady. The crowd was as silent as death. "Very badly, Haldir."

The sound of arrow leaving the bow echoed in the courtyard.

The applause was thunderous. The Elves of Mirkwood stood up once more, roaring their approval while Haldir just stared, a little bemused at the sight of Legolas' arrow splitting his own into two. The result was unanimous. Legolas had won.

The crowd chanted his name and Iruven, Prince Amras's son, ran up to his cousin and latched himself onto Legolas' leg, clinging tightly, and at the same time pressing loud, noisy kisses upon the Elf's kneecaps.

"You won! Wittle Ewef won!" Iruven cried out happily and would not let go although his father tried to detach him from Legolas' leg. Legolas laughed merrily and shuffled his way towards the King, and presented an awkward bow. Thranduil looked at him, his eyes holding steady upon Legolas' gaze. And then he smiled. It was a tiny smile. But it was a smile nonetheless and when Annariel looked at the two proud figures looking at one another, her eyes misted a little. But she too smiled.

"I stand before you to ask for my heart's desire, my king," Legolas said, his face grave once more. The King was silent for a moment, quietly beholding the Elf before him, wondering slightly when was it that Legolas had grown into the Warrior that he had become.

"And what is it that you desire, Legolas?" he asked, cocking his head in a polite manner. Legolas hesitated as his eyes darted towards his mother. The Elves were silent once more, watching the drama that was unfolding before them.

A pause.

"I only wish for one thing, my lord," Legolas said, the blinding blueness of his eyes boring into the King's. "I wish for you to release my mother. I wish for you to allow her to return to Lothlorien, where she rightly belongs."

The silence was long and heavy. Every single body stiffened and Legolas could feel the strain that hung thickly in the air. The King still looked politely inquisitive, his expression carefully masked. Annariel stared at her son, trembling with emotion.

Lothlorien. The name alone sent a rush of delight through her veins. What would she not give to see her homeland once more? What would she not give to dwell alongside her people as she did sixteen years ago? And she continued to tremble, her eyes darting between the still figure of the King sitting next to her and the proud, straight form of her son standing before them.

"And why do you wish for that?" asked the King lightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension that surrounded him.

"I believe that it will make her happy, my lord. And it is the one thing that I desire most; for her to be happy."

"And what then, of you? If your mother leaves, will you go with her? Or will you stay in my service?"

Legolas looked away for the first time, suddenly unsure. But he went on anyway.

"My loyalty will always lie with Mirkwood. I only ask that I would be allowed to visit her from time to time."

The King leaned back into his seat. He turned to look at Annariel, gazing at her hair, her face and her eager, green eyes for the longest period of time. And then he looked back to Legolas once more.

Thranduil stood up and moved towards the Elf, coming to stand directly before him. Legolas did not flinch. His eyes continued to stare into his father's.

"Is this truly what you wish for?" he asked, his hard eyes fixed intently down upon Legolas'. The younger Elf barely reached his shoulders in height, but he looked back, never blinking and never showing fear.

"Yes, my lord. It is," he said, and his voice was clearly heard in the strained silence.

There was a long pause.

"So be it."

The crowd gasped collectively and whispered to one another. Thranduil continued to gaze at his son and then, suddenly, without warning, his expression softened as it never had before when he looked upon Legolas. A hand reached out to clasp Legolas' tense shoulder and it lingered there for a moment. A reluctant smile broke upon his face. He removed his hand.

"So be it," he said again. He stepped back, nodded to his attendants and strode back towards his palace.

The tournament was over. The crowd dispersed and in the midst of it, two figures were locked in a tight embrace.

"Bless you, Little Elf. Bless you," Annariel murmured repeatedly, cradling her son in her arms. Legolas hugged her back tightly, ignoring the squawk of protest that came from below his knees.

In the distance, another Elf smiled. And as he looked upon them, he did not realise that all the love he held for Legolas was reflected clearly in this grey eyes.

"Well done, Little Elf," Haldir murmured, his lips lifting in a smile. And with that, he too walked away.

**********

Preparations were made during the week. It was planned carefully, for the King had decided at the last moment that he would accompany Annariel to Lothlorien. With him, forty archers (including the three 'Lorien brothers) and ten attendants would follow, making sure that the King and his consort were well protected. Annariel was glowing with joy, her gentle laughter tinkled like bells in the halls of the palace. The King kept mostly to himself, locked in his study, only to leave when the sun set to spend the night in Annariel's room, as he had often done of late.

**********

His chest heaved as he moved his hips in a rhythmic manner, his member sliding itself into the wet warmth of his lover's womb. She sighed and moaned. And when she did that, heat seemed to build up in his loins and his movements grew more frantic.

"Ah yes, my love. Take me!" she seethed and he obliged, locking his mouth onto those red lips, rocking himself back and forth. He was so close now. So close to reaching what he was desperately seeking for.

A knock on the door.

The male Elf ignored it. The bed shook and squeaked in time to their torrid love-making.

"Haldir? It's me, Legolas," came the voice, its sound muffled.

Haldir cursed. He rolled off his lover and grabbed his clothes, wincing as he tried to stuff his engorged member into the restraints of his leggings. The female Elf gave a sound of protest, but before she could say anything else, he dragged her off the bed and hid her in the closet.

"Stay there. Do not move," he croaked out, and cursed once again at the burning sensation in his loins. Trust Legolas to interrupt him at a time like this! He still had not forgotten long ago when Legolas had crept up behind him while he was busy pleasuring himself with his hands. He had ended up being chased by his brothers through the woods with a monkey on his back. Or was that monkey Legolas? Haldir shook his head and thought that it was the same difference anyway.

Another knock.

"Coming," he grunted and snorted. 'How I *wish*,' he thought and grumbled to himself a little as he went to the door to let Legolas in.

Legolas looked at Haldir in surprise. The older Elf looked strangely dishevelled; his hair was rumpled and he wore only his leggings. Haldir also did not look too happy to see him.

"I am not disturbing you, am I?" he asked uncertainly. Haldir gave him a pained expression but shook his head. Legolas paused as if unsure of what to say next. But he threw caution to the wind and said it anyway.

"Can I spend the night here again?" he asked in a rush. Haldir's face softened with an unnamed emotion and he reached out to stroke the head of soft, blond hair.

"It is lonely in your room," he said. It was not a question. It was a statement and a true one at that. Ever since Legolas had spent three weeks in the confinements of his room, after the unfortunate incident with Baby Iruven at the bathing pool, he felt that he could no longer lie on his bed without remembering those bleak hours of his time there.

The bleak hours where he had just sat on the floor and rocked himself back and forth, all the time separated from people to talk to and separated from the caresses and kind words of Nana's.

Legolas just nodded, his lips pressed together and his eyes downcast.

"The King spends every night in Nana's room. I can no longer stay with her at night and ." he trailed off here, unable to continue. Haldir just smiled and led Legolas to his bed. Legolas snuggled under the covers and Haldir lay down next to him, wincing again at the persistent hardness at the junction of his thighs. Legolas curled up to him.

"You are hard. So unlike Nana," he mumbled sleepily, as he shifted around, trying to get comfortable and Haldir groaned a little. As he listened to the even breathings of his young friend next to him, and as he thought of his lover in the closet, he realized that this was going to be a long night indeed.

**********

It was time for Annariel to leave Mirkwood. Hundreds and hundreds of the Wood Elves gathered at the palace gate to see her. They were rather sad to see her leave for Annariel had been kind and gentle to all Elves, regardless of what social background they came from. Her attendants adored her and all who looked upon her face loved her, for not only was she beautiful to look at, but her beauty seemed to come from deep within her soul, shining out onto her fair skin and bright, green eyes.

She was smiling, clasping her son to her side, waving at all those who waved at her. The King remained silent and grave. He sat regally upon his horse, looking every inch like royalty. His hair shone in the morning sun and little tendrils of his hair locks fluttered in the breeze.

Legolas helped his mother onto her horse and leapt onto his own. Iruven stood amongst the crowd, bouncing on his toes and waving enthusiastically, alternating between tears and laughter. He was crying because he was told he could not follow Legolas to Lothlorien, but he was laughing because Legolas looked so happy that he could not help himself. There was a final call of the horn and with that, they rode off towards Lothlorien.

**********

The journey would take only ten days or so, for the horses were swift and Elves were resilient travellers, needing very little rest. They passed many lush, tall trees and many rushing rivers. Within the fourth day, they reached the boundaries of Rivendell. A scout called out to the King. There was lone figure on horse standing before them.

Annariel cried out with joy. She halted her mount and jumped off while the other figure did the same. Running to each other, both female hugged each another, murmuring words of welcome.

"Celebrain! Well met, cousin," said Annariel, her eyes moist with emotions. Thranduil looked upon them, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"We heard. we heard that you are heading to Lothlorien. And my husband allowed me to accompany you there," said the fair Elf. She was tall and beautiful like Annariel, but her eyes were a striking blue instead of green. She turned to Thranduil with a grateful expression on her face.

"I am so happy. You have proven yourself to be a benevolent ruler indeed, to allow my cousin to return to her homeland. Your kindness will be remembered fondly, King of Mirkwood," she said, addressing the King, tears trickling down her face as she gave him a shaky smile.

"I do not know if I could stand so much happiness," he said wryly, referring to the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. Celebrian just laughed, dabbing away her tears self-consciously and Annariel laughed with her, her heart secretly singing with joy at the jest that her lover had made.

They travelled on for a few more hours, Annariel and Celebrain speaking to one another rapidly, making up for all the times that they had been apart from each another. Legolas rode close to his mother, his eyes fixed upon her animated face. He was silent most of the time but he was smiling. Haldir watched his young friend and his heart seemed to reach out to Legolas. It had been so long since a smile involuntarily crossed the Elf's face and Haldir found that he was glad to see Legolas happy once more. And as Haldir watched Legolas, Rumil and Orophin whispered to one another with a knowing look upon their faces.

**********

Night had fallen, and the King called for his followers to halt for the night. Tents were set up and a fire was built. It was peaceful and quiet in the forest at that point of time. There was barely any movement amongst the trees, nor any sounds from insects. The King bestowed a kiss upon Annariel's forehead before retiring for the night, but he did not ask her follow him to his tent as he had done during the past four nights, allowing her to spend more time with her son and cousin. And for that, Annariel was grateful.

"He does not seem to be so terrible. The way Rumil described him to me when I was at Lothlorien, I thought that he was perhaps a troll who had been reincarnated as an Elf," Celebrain whispered as she sat next to Annariel by the fire, the flames deliciously warming their toes. Legolas rested his head upon his mother's lap, silent and contented as Nana stroked his hair. Haldir and his brothers sat near them, but they were engaged in their own conversation and so did not take much notice of them.

"He has changed much of late," she murmured back. Celebrain smiled gently.

"Do you love him?" she asked and Annariel's hand froze upon Legolas' hair. Legolas pricked up his ears and waited in anticipation for his mother's reply. Annariel said nothing for a moment, her head cocked to one side as she contemplated her response.

"He is kind to me," she said finally, "At one time he was a cold and bitter Elf. But somehow he has grown tender over the years and he has been a considerate King and a patient father to my son. I cannot ask more of him."

It was not the answer Celebrain was looking for, but she said nothing.

"What is the first thing that you will do at Lothlorien?" Celebrain asked suddenly. Annariel smiled as she took out a piece of parchment from her pocket. The parchment was a rather old, yellowed at the edges, and it was folded many times. She opened it and showed her cousin the content within the page.

It was a leaf. And although it had long since parted from its parent tree, the leaf was still the glorious colour of a green leaf.

"I will fashion a brooch out of this leaf so that I may wear it. It will be special for it came from afar; from the Forests of Mirkwood. And it may seem to be of little value but it carries with it all the virtues. all the qualities. that I could ever hope to instil in myself," she said, pressing the leaf close to her heart. Legolas sat up and looked at the leaf. And then he looked at his mother's face.

"Why is that leaf so special, Nana?" he asked softly, eyes shining with wonder at the awe that he saw upon his mother's face.

"Don't you know, Little Elf?" Celebrain said with a smile. "This is the very leaf that gave you your name. And look! Look at how fresh and unmarked it is! Ah, Annariel. Your son will be very precious indeed. It is marvellous how it is able to survive even without its roots."

And Legolas looked upon it in awe also.

"It came to me, Little Elf, as how *you* came to me. It was a gift from the Valar when I thought that all was lost. And it represents Salvation, Patience, Love, Hope, Joy, Strength, and Life: the qualities that exist in a Warrior. And that is what you mean to me. And that is what you are. a survivor. *my* saviour," whispered Annariel, kissing Legolas' head tenderly, and her face blurred before Legolas' eyes. It was then he realized that he was crying.

"Am I all those things, Nana? I never knew that," he murmured as he enfolded his mother in his embrace.

"Ah, Little Elf," Celebrain said, laughing lightly as she reached out to stroke Legolas' hair. "Sometimes the most important things - the very thing that we want to listen to most - are oft left unsaid. We hunger for the words of love. But sometimes it is hard and it is from looks and actions that we can see those unspoken words."

Annariel smiled, knowing that her cousin was alluding towards Thranduil. He might not have told her that he loved her. But his actions had proven that, perhaps, he had come to care for her. After all, had he not allowed her to leave his side - after sixteen years - to return to her home? Had he not kept to himself throughout the week, locked himself up in his room, unable to bear looking at her face, as she eagerly waited for the time when she could leave Mirkwood? And had he not made love to her with a strange sense of desperation every night?

"You are right, of course, cousin," she said simply as she carefully folded the paper over the leaf and tucked it once more into her pocket. She lay down upon the ground, her face turned towards the dark skies, sprinkled with thousands of bright stars. Legolas curled up next to her and Celebrain held her hand. And with that, Annariel fell asleep, peaceful and content in the knowledge that all of whom she cared for were rooted deep in her heart. Her son, her cousin and her King.

********** *Annariel*

A cry rang through the air. The cry of pain, of terror and of death. Annariel started from her dreams and sat bolt upright. Next to her, Celebrain did the same. Instinctively, she reached out for her son. But he was no longer next to her. He had vanished. And Annariel could feel the cold claws of fear gripping her heart.

"Little Elf!" she cried out, her voice drowned out by rapidly increasing volume of the shouts and noises around her. A battle had broken out in the night. The Elves of Mirkwood and of Lothlorien were scattered about, their knives glinting in the moonlight. Apparently, the two female Elves were not notified of the ambush for the guards had tried to lure the enemy away from their camp. But they had failed.

"Little Elf!" she called out again, springing to her feet.

Celebrain grabbed her hand, her eyes wide with apprehension. "Nay, Annariel! It is too dangerous! Let us return to our tent!" she cried.

"Nay! I must find my son!" she cried, wrenching her hand away from her cousin's grip. And with that, she sprinted away, calling out for her son as her voice rang out sharply and desperately in the cold, cruel night.

*Celebrain*

"Annariel!" Celebrain cried out and made to run after her. A hand held her back and she turned around. It was Rumil. He was covered from head to foot in scratches and his sword smoked with fresh, hot blood.

"Nay, my lady! We have been ambushed! Stay close to Haldir!" he said, gesturing vaguely towards the dark corner of their camp, amongst the trees, before dashing off after Annariel. Celebrain ran to the direction that was pointed out to her. She hid amongst the tall trees, peering out at the massacre that was taking place before her very eyes.

"Annariel," she moaned hopelessly, wringing her hands. She felt someone approaching her from behind. "Haldir, we must." she began to say, as she turned around to address the 'Lorien Elf. And then she stopped abruptly as she regarded the figure before her.

*Legolas*

Legolas looked around, his eyes registering the faces before him. They were terrible faces. Orcs. And from their eyes, he could see no pity - just the desire to kill and to destroy. He had felled many but his arrows were all spent. He took to his knives but he knew that he could not keep off all of them for he grew wearier by the minute. The Orcs knew this and they circled him like predators closing around a wounded prey. The Elf's hands tightened onto his knives.

*Rumil*

Rumil saw an Orc looming over a figure, its foul fingers trying to choke the life out of the slender Elf. With a cry of rage, he launched himself at his enemy, his sword sliding easily into the vulnerable flesh of the creature's neck. Beneath the Orc, Haldir's chest heaved as he gulped in air.

A frown marred the older Elf's features as he looked down upon his brother.

"Where is Lady Celebrain?" he asked, his voice harsh with worry.

"With Orophin," came the reply. Rumil gave a quick nod of his head before leaping into the battle once more with Haldir next to him.

*Thranduil*

An anger that he had never known burned through his veins like fire. His white knives darted out, slashing open the foul beasts that were foolish enough to challenge him. Orcs. His lips curled in disgust and intense hate. They were the reason why his son was dead. They were the cause of his father's death. And so, he fought on, his mind numb to pain - numb to everything except the hatred that gnawed in the depths of his heart. He just wanted to kill - to inflict hurt on the very things that had caused him much suffering for hundreds of years.

A scream cut through the air and he froze.

"Legolas!" he choked out, and sprinted into the direction of his son's cries.

*Orophin*

A scream. A lady's cry for help. The Elf raced towards the voice, his face contorted with rage at the sight that greeted him. An Orc towered over a prone figure, its bow and arrow ready to fire. Orophin flung his dagger towards the direction of the enemy and its pointed end sank deep into its back. It fell to the ground and never got up again.

He ran swiftly towards the lady and his mouth dropped open in an expression of horror and shock.

In the moonlight, the pain on the Lady's face was brought into sharp relief. An arrow had pierced through her shoulder and from the trembling of her slender body, Orophin knew that the weapon had been poisoned.

"Lady Celebrain," he murmured as he held her in his arms. The Lady shuddered at the wave of anguish. Her cracked lips moved as if to say something.

"Annariel!" she whispered upon a sigh, and her eyes closed as she succumbed to darkness.

*Legolas*

He saw it all. It was something that would haunt him until the day he died. But he saw it all. He saw his mother running to him. He saw how the Orcs had turned to the direction of her screams.

"Nay! Not him!" she had cried out. Running towards him. Running to protect him. Even when she knew that it was hopeless. The Orcs barred her way, clearly taking pleasure at the pain that was unmistakably heard in his mother's voice. They laughed and spoke in their foul tongue, mocking the Lady before them, her eyes wild and her face and hands scratched as she brushed past trees in her haste to get to his side.

"Nana, no!" Little Elf cried out. "Go! Run away!"

But Nana stayed.

One of the Orc grabbed her fair hair. The pain brought her to her knees, but still her hands stretched out for Legolas.

Little Elf tried to run to his mother but cruel hands held him back. He thrashed around, desperate to get to Nana, eyes widening in horror as his mother cried out when a fist smashed across her face. But her eyes continued to fix themselves upon her son.

"Little Elf. Little Elf," she murmured, her hands clawing against the earth as she tried to crawl towards her son. But a foot upon her back prevented her from moving. She pressed her head against the ground; defeated.

The Orc drew out his dagger.

Legolas screamed.

*Haldir*

The enemies were retreating.

Although several of the Elves had died defending the King and the lady, victory was near. He withdrew his knife from the chest of the creature and disgustedly wiped it against the grass.

And then he heard it. A scream. It was high and had an unnatural quality to it. It was a scream of anguish and anger. And it sounded close. Too close.

"Legolas!" he cried out and ran towards the sound. He ran wildly through the trees and as he reached a clearing, he stopped as he looked at the sight before him.

A dagger was raised.

And it was brought down, sinking into fair, Elven flesh.

Screams. They were loud. Painful. Terrible. No words could possibly describe it. Screams coming from Legolas. Screams coming from his mother.

Haldir roared his rage. His sword was raised as he lunged towards the loathed creature, beheading it instantly.

There were ten of them left. One was holding onto Legolas while the other nine encircled him. Haldir fought like he was possessed. He was not aware of another figure joining him but one by one the enemy were felled. A lone arrow whizzed through the air, catching the Orc who held Legolas captive in the head. It fell down, dead, and Legolas scrambled on all fours towards his mother.

"Nana! No! Please. no!" he cried out, crawling towards the limp and wounded figure.

"Little Elf," came the soft reply and Legolas cradled her head on his lap, crying and calling out her name.

"Nana. please. no!" he said over and over, rocking to and fro as he buried his face into her bloodstained hair.

"Take him away," said a voice. Haldir turned towards the King, a look of disbelief upon his face.

"You cannot deny him this, my lord!" he said, his voice laced with anger.

"He is still in danger! Take him away!" Thranduil gritted out.

"Hurry!" the King said, as he heard approaching footsteps of the Orcs in their direction. Haldir had no choice but to obey. He moved to Legolas and tried to pry him away from his mother. It was heart-wrenching. Legolas' renewed cries of protest were like knives being twisted in Haldir's heart. But there was little he could do. Orcs continued to approach them from all around them. They were near. Too near. And so, Haldir continued to try to take Legolas away from Annariel.

"Nana! No. Haldir. please, no!" he screamed, tears flowing from his eyes, washing away his mother's blood from his face. He struggled. He cried. He clasped his mother tightly to his heart, his head pressing against hers. But Haldir did not let him go, and dragged him away, tossing him over his shoulder.

More noises of Orcs and Elves engaging in a battle were coming towards them. Legolas was still screaming, wanting to go to his mother. But Haldir carried him away, ignoring the Elf's pleas and tears.

"Haldir! Please. Nana!"

Annariel's arms were stretched out towards the direction her son.

"Little Elf," she wept, her eyes closing as if she was growing weary.

"Go! Take him to Rivendell!" Thranduil roared and Haldir balked for a moment before sprinting away just as several Orcs appeared amongst the shadows, racing towards their direction. The Elves of Mirkwood fought hard to keep the enemy back from their King. And as Haldir raced away, Thranduil could still hear his son's cries, reverberating in the night; and it continued to echo in that empty space of his chest that he called his heart.

"Little Elf," Annariel said again, as Thranduil knelt next to her. Carefully, he laid her head upon his lap and held her cold hands.

"Hush, now. He is safe," he said, his chest tight with sorrow as a hand moved to stroke her pale face and her hair. He cradled her to his chest, pressing kisses upon her forehead, her blood soaking into his clothes.

The battle continued around them, but it paled in comparison to the battle that the King had within his heart as he stared down at the beaten and broken figure in his arms.

Annariel cried, her hot tears seeming to burn into the Elven-Lord's skin. Regret was a harsh reality. And it was painful. It was something he had lived with all his life. But tonight, the regret seemed even more difficult to bear. Annariel continued to call out for her son, her hand fumbling in her pocket for her treasure.

Thranduil helped her and their hands entwined together as they clasped the leaf to their hearts. Her lips parted as if to say something. But she was too weak, and she coughed with her effort, blood trickling out of the corners of her mouth,

"Little Elf," she said again, her bloody hands clutching into the folds of the King's tunic.

"He is safe," he repeated once more, his voice cracking with sorrow. "Our son is safe."

Annariel gave a small, tremulous smile despite her pain, her chest heaving with her last few breaths.

"Our son," she murmured, and as she thought of how wonderful the words sounded upon her lips, her eyes closed. She never opened them again.

And the King did what he had never done before.

He cried.

And all the time, it seemed that he could hear Legolas' voice resounding deep in the caverns of his mind and his heart.

"Nana! Please.no!"


	5. Drowning

The Elf stood by the balcony with his fair face turned towards the setting sun. Its dying radiance bathed the city with the last glory of its light, and shadows once more forced its way into every corner of his room in the decaying sunlight. It was the same everyday. The same sun rose, coaxing forth a riot of colours from the earth, making flowers bloom right before his eyes. But it was the same. The sun would fade away when it tire and darkness would prevail once more, engulfing his soul with a sense of painful melancholy.

Was this how it felt like to drown? Was this how it felt like, to sink so deeply into the watery abyss, your face turned towards the brightness of the sun above, while you were sucked irresistibly down into the darkness of a bottomless pool? You might cry out for help but the coldness of the waters choke you, making a mockery of your fears and anguish. You might fight and struggle to break through the surface, but it would only serve to drag you further down into that void where the dead dwelled and sorrow reigned.

The sun had set for the Elf. It was gone but no more will it return. And he was lost. Lost in the void where no one could hear his cry of pain. Was this how it felt like to drown? To have the coldness of reality and the darkness of sorrow press themselves upon your heart so that you could not longer remember how to breathe? You choke with your own emotions, wondering if you could ever find salvation. Wondering if there would be a day where you could break away from the chains of this overwhelming darkness. And he was drowning. Drowning in sorrow. Drowning with conflicting emotion and sharp regret. Drowning with the memory of a glorious golden sun, with eyes as green as the trees in Mirkwood.

"You must speak with him," came the familiar voice by his door. It was the same every night. Every day was as before, repeating itself like a nightmare that one could never awaken from. "You will lose him, if you do nothing to bring him back."

The voice was soft and laced with sorrow. The Elf flinched inwardly. There was too much sorrow already. He did not know how to face it anymore. He had fought it for too long and at too great a price. Through all the years, he fought to put on a brave front, hiding his pain behind a sneer and his fears behind a smirk. But he would not fight anymore. Let the bleakness and the pain take him if they would. But he could not look at Sorrow in its face and laugh at it again.

The Elf felt a warm hand upon his shoulder. It was a gesture of comfort and understanding. He turned his head slightly, watching the figure that had come to stand behind him from the corner of his eyes. Dark blue eyes regarded him solemnly and thoughtfully. The grip upon his shoulder tightened slightly.

"He will fade. You must speak to him. You cannot lose him," the figure murmured and the Elf stared into those eyes, willing them to understand his pain and his fears. The Lord of Rivendell gazed at the King standing before him, studying the calm expression upon those fair features, reading the raging emotions behind those bright blue eyes.

"He is your son, Thranduil. You must go to him before it is too late," he tried to say again. The Elven King looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He was silent and remained so for a long time. And he remembered a young voice.

"I'm sorry, Adar. I love you! Love you, please! I'm sorry!" the voice was saying. And he saw a vision of his hand striking a figure. Suddenly the vision changed and he saw that same figure bending over his mother. And again he heard the voice saying "Nana. Please.No!"

So he continued to stand there, trying to speak to the voice in his head. Wanted to say that he was sorry too. But he could not. He would rather brave ten thousand Orcs then to listen to the voices in his head. So much pain. So much sorrow. He could not face it again. He could go mad with grief. And so he stood still. Silent and distant as the moon, his eyes were fixed into the inky darkness of the night.

With a sigh, Elrond turned away from him, leaving him to his own dark thoughts.

**********

Right and left. Left and right. It seemed so easy. So easy to walk, moving one feet forward and then the next. But his steps faltered as they reached the barrier of a door and the person behind it. He was so near yet so far. Was that even possible? To be so near physically but emotionally, it was as if a chasm existed in the space between them where each cannot hear the other's cry of pain? His brows furrowed for a moment before he answered his own question in his mind.

Yes. Such distance between two souls was possible. And he remembered his queen. How she had left because she could not build the bridge between the rift. She could not bear to feel that emptiness of space between them and so she had left, leaving him to battle with his secret demons on his own.

He placed a mildly shaking hand upon the door knob. He wondered slightly at the trembling. Took a deep, calming breath. And he entered the room.

It was as if he were looking into a pool. A reflection. A physical manifestation of his emotional turmoil. And he just stared at the figure curled up tightly into itself, as if it wanted to disappear completely. He could hear it. Although it had its back towards him, he could hear it. And its irregular breathing pattern flattened with much effort at the King's presence. And he wondered briefly if every one did the same whenever he was around. He wondered if everyone fought to keep their emotions in tight control whenever he chanced to see them at their most vulnerable.

He did not know where to begin. So he continued to stare at its back as it somehow managed to look lost and alone on the huge bed, as it pressed its face into the pillow to muffle its cries. He sat on the edge of the bed but did not reach out to touch the body when it flinched instinctively at the feel of the Elven lord's weight upon the soft mattress.

"It was not your fault," he said finally, his voice calm, with just a hint of concern. The body trembled violently and slender limbs shook as it buried its face into the palms of its hands. And the King could still hear it. Although the figure tried to stifle the sounds it emitted from its mouth, Thranduil could hear them; those odd hiccups and choked murmurings.

"Legolas?" he ventured once more, not daring to touch his own son for fear of breaking apart. So close yet so far. He could not breathe. Legolas still continued to cry softly. And he did not know how to safe themselves; to safe themselves from Drowning. He stood up suddenly as he felt his chest constricting. He could not breathe. He had to get out. Now. But his feet refused to move.

He took something out from the pocket of his robes. He stared at the content in his hand. A beautiful Green Leaf. A leaf torn from its parent tree. But it was still as green as the day when it had found its way into Annariel's hands. And he placed it next to his son on the bed. He stepped away, hesitating. Not wanting to leave, although he had no reason to stay. And he waited.

Little Elf pulled his hands away from his face. His eyes were red and cheeks wet. His watery gaze fell upon the object next to him. He took it in his hands and pressed it close to his heart. His face crumbled once more - the tears flowing hard and fast like a dam bursting its banks.

"Nana. I love you. Please. No," he wept. The sound of those tears reverberated in the room, increasing in volume and intensity.

And the King left then, unable to bear the words slipping out from his son's lips. A mirror. A reflection. Drowning. It was too much. And in the few days that followed, he could only manage to stand outside Legolas' door, all the while listening to the same words over and over.

"Nana. Please. No."

**********

Weeks passed, slowly becoming months. And then months bled into years. Four years had passed since the death of Annariel. Lady Celebrain had long since recovered from the poisoned arrow but she found that she could no longer live in Rivendell, plagued as she was by her cousin's death and the Elfling's sorrow. She had wanted to take Legolas with her, but her husband had refused. And so she had left on her own to the Undying lands, to be freed from sorrow, despair and pain.

That had been years ago. But the present seemed as bleak as it had been before.

There were whispers in the wind. Of a leaf so pure, that wanted to fly away and never to return. Wanting and willing itself to fade far from existence. The doors to the chamber housing that leaf remained closed year after year. And behind those doors, Legolas lay upon his bed, not moving and not eating. It had been weeks. But no one had managed to get him to eat anything. He just lay there, motionless, his blue eyes fixed upon the ceiling of his room. And everywhere in Rivendell, Elves despaired.

"It had been nearly a month. But he would not eat anything. He had long since ceased to weep but he would not speak." Elrond was saying, as he slanted a glance towards his friend. Silence passed between them and the Lord of Rivendell studied the King of Mirkwood, taking in the bleakness that dwelled in the depth of his eyes and the lines of sorrow that lined his youthful face.

That was the look that the Elven King wore whenever he visited Legolas in his chambers. Visited Legolas, and yet, did not really visit him. Seen Legolas and yet did not really see him. It had been four years. But he could only manage to get past the barrier of the door a few times. Only a few times out of the many times that he had journeyed from his room towards his son's. And in those few times that he had entered the room, he had always been overwhelmed by the raging waves of emotions that sent him stumbling out again, gasping for breath.

"Thranduil. If you know of anyone who might bring him back, you must seek him out," Elrond said again. He was in despair. There had been so many deaths of late. Too much misery and loss. And he would not allow Thranduil to lose Legolas.

But the Mirkwood King remained silent. And Elrond sighed, leaving his friend to his own troubled thoughts. Thranduil sat there for many minutes, his brows furrowed - deep in thought. And then he walked towards Elrond's table, taking a piece of unused parchment from one of the drawers. He picked up a quill, the pointed end dripping ink as it hovered over the surface of the yellowed paper. He started to write. Paused. And frowned a little more. And he wrote on as if struck by a sudden inspiration.

That night, a letter was sent out.

It was addressed to an occupant in Lothlorien.

And later still in the night, the King stood outside Legolas' door; his hand placed upon the door knob that he did not have the strength to turn.

*********

A week crawled by. It was evening, and the sun sat once more as it had always done in Rivendell. And in the distance, he saw the silvery outline of the rising moon. And he smiled a little. Not from joy, but from the knowledge that with each death of a morning, a night would take over. And its gentle magic would ease away the burdens of the day in order to make way for a new morning. A morning with colours and sweet sounds of birds. It was strange that he should think of such thoughts. But he could not help it.

He stood at the window. Watching and waiting. Basking in the soft glow of the moon. Relishing its gentleness and its beauty. The white moon rose higher still and in the horizon, he saw a rider entering the gates of the city. Thranduil watched the moonbeams caressing the rider, as if finding joy in his very presence in this land of sorrow. And then the King turned away from the sight, moving towards his desk. He sat down. And he waited.

**********

"To what do I owe the honour of receiving an invitation from the King of Mirkwood?"

The voice was soft and mocking. The King leaned back upon his chair as he cast a careless look upon the figure standing before him.

"Do not think too much of yourself, Haldir of 'Lorien. It is not because of my pleasure that I seek you out," he returned back smoothly, smiling inwardly at the flash of anger that flickered in those grey eyes.

"Then why? Why have you asked me to come?" he pressed on, the mocking smile that he wore quickly fell into a sneer. And the King lifted his hands to silence the Elf.

"I understand that you are like a brother to Legolas," he began, his keen eyes registering an unnamed emotion that blossomed upon the Elf's fair features before he carefully put on a mask of indifference once more.

Haldir cocked his head in reply. But his eyes never left the King's. Wary and watchful. The King hesitated for the barest amount of time before plunging ahead with whatever he had to say.

"He needs you. Go to him," he said shortly. And Haldir just stared at him.

"And if I do not?" he said. And the expression on his face softened a little. Thranduil stared back at the face that challenged him to reveal emotions that he never thought he had.

"What would you do if I refuse do as you ask?" Haldir said again, his voice soft and sad.

A pause.

"I would have begged you to," came the answer.

It was enough.

And so Haldir went.

**********

The room was dark for the candles had sputtered and died sometime in the night and the curtains had been drawn to block out the light. A figure lay curled on its side and unmoving upon the bed, the sheets pulled up to its chin. Haldir knew that his presence was noted although Legolas had his back towards him. And he also knew that Legolas was aware of the identity of his visitor. But the young Elf did not give as much as a sigh to welcome him. And it angered him. Just a little.

"No kind words to welcome an old friend, Legolas?" he said, his voice calm and friendly, belying the tempest in his heart. Where had all the laughter and smiles gone to? It was as if the Legolas he knew had never existed; trapped in this frigid body before him. And he was angered once more. Legolas had always been the embodiment of life itself. He loved life and found joy in the simplest of things. He could even find joy in the gentle, fluttering sounds made by the wings of a butterfly. How had it come to this?

He was greeted with silence. The younger Elf made no show of having heard him. And something in Haldir's mind snapped. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was fear. He knew not.

With an oath, he started towards the bed and wrenched the sheet away from the body. It startled a response from Legolas and a look of shock flickered briefly in those eyes before his expression turned blank once more.

Haldir threw the covers haphazardly in the corner of a room and clambered onto the bed. He reached out and roughly grabbed those slender shoulders, pulling the younger Elf in an upright position, straddling him as he did.

"She is dead! You cannot bring her back, Little Elf! Killing yourself will not bring her back! Do you hear me?" he hissed, nearly pressing his nose right into Legolas'. His eyes bored into the face before him that was devoid of emotions. And it offended him. It offended him to see a face that had grown so beautiful and so dear to him without any emotions written upon those fair features.

It was an insult because something so precious as Legolas should never be allowed to be sullied nor marred by the horrors that he had experienced. Haldir wished that he could erase all that had happened. He wished for many things. But mostly, he wished to have Legolas back. Laughing out loud without a care in the world and smiling in that endearing half-smile of his.

And so he continued talking to Legolas. Sporadically shaking him, as if willing his words to penetrate through the thick barrier that Legolas had set up for himself. Annariel had said that Legolas was good at hiding. She had not lied because Legolas had hid so well in the depth of his mind that he was in danger of losing himself in the dark abyss and never to return.

Finally those blue eyes gained focus and they stared into Haldir's, their expression full of sorrow and sufferings. It was the first time Haldir had seen such a look upon the Elf's face. But it was better than the look of defeat that he had seen a few minutes before. And so, he was glad. His voice lowered into murmurs of comfort as Legolas began to tremble. He tried to enfold Legolas in his embrace, but the Elf pushed him away, reluctant to leave his private world of anguish to return to reality.

"Leave me. Go away!" he choked out, his voice cracking as he did. But Haldir stayed and Legolas began to struggle, his feet snaking out to plant themselves against Haldir's chest to kick him away.

"You cannot continue like this! You must not do this!" Haldir said, striving to contain the Elf's frantic movements of panic. And Legolas began to cry, his chest shuddering with every laboured breath he took. He was so weak and exhausted. He did not want to fight anymore, least of all Haldir. He did not want to feel anymore. He did not want to live.

"Let me go! Please!" he cried.

"No!"

"I do not want to feel anymore! I want it to stop!"'

And with that, Legolas managed to escape Haldir's grasp and he fled towards the far end of the bed, his back pressing against the wooden headboard as he brought his knees to his chest, proceeding to rock to and fro.

"Legolas," Haldir began but Legolas continued to rock himself. To and fro. Back and forth. Effectively putting a distance between him and Haldir. And anger once more flared in Haldir's chest, threatening to choke him. Haldir approached the Elf again, his ears picking up the muffled sounds of Legolas' tears. Legolas shook his head wearily.

"Please. I only ask to be alone. Please," he whispered and he broke off, murmuring the words 'Nana' and 'please' over and over again under his breath. Chanting those very words as if they were a prayer. As if calling her name could bring him closer to her. And Haldir began to feel frightened.

And so he did the only thing he knew how in order to bring Legolas back.

He pried Legolas' hands away from his face and lowered his lips towards Legolas' trembling ones, brushing those soft petals in a chaste kiss. Little Elf tried to turn away, his hands clenching into fists as he braced them against Haldir's chest as if he wanted to push the older Elf away. But Haldir persisted.

Again and again he kissed the young Elf, his tongue tracing the outline of Legolas' lips, probing a little with his tongue as he tried to gain entrance into the Elf's mouth. He cupped those cheeks, his thumb grazing the edges of those fine and chiselled cheekbones, deepening the kiss - coaxing those lips apart.

Legolas murmured his protests, trying but failing to turn his face away from Haldir's onslaught, pushing harder against his firm, unyielding chest. Haldir murmured back, whispering words of love and comfort - taking advantage of Legolas' protests to dip his tongue into the sweet cavern of the Elf's mouth.

Haldir's hand reached around to clasp the Elf's head, crushing his lips against Legolas'. He could not help himself. What had started as a gesture of comfort turned into something more intense. More intimate. Haldir never realized that kissing another male could result in so much pleasure. And he sighed, his tongue chasing Legolas' back and forth; first advancing into the depths of Legolas mouth, then retreating when the young Elf tried to push his tongue away and later suckled at the honeyed tip of Legolas' tongue.

Legolas had his eyes clenched shut. Unable to understand what was happening to him. Unable to understand why he found comfort when Haldir kissed him as he had never been kissed before. Unable to stop himself from feeling. But he did not want to feel. And so he continued to struggle, his head trashing from side to side, trying to avoid Haldir's warm kisses.

"No. Stop," Legolas said, squirming away from Haldir. But he could not get free because the Elf's weight upon his thighs prevented him from doing so.

"Hush, Little Elf. Let me take your pain away," he murmured back soothingly, clasping the trembling body to his heart, running his hands up and down the slender back. But Legolas trembled more, crying out his protest. And Haldir continued to ignore him. Instead, he pressed light, feathery kisses upon Little Elf's face, murmuring praises of his perfection and Legolas became quiet for he was reminded of the many nights when his Nana would do that to him. Comforting him one night while he lay trembling in her arms.

But this was not Nana. And Haldir proved that by tracing the soft skin at Legolas' neck, nibbling gently. Tasting and comforting. Haldir was warmth. Haldir was love. And so Legolas sat still, not pushing Haldir away anymore - and yet not encouraging him either. He just sat and accepted whatever offer of comfort Haldir wanted to give him.

But Haldir wanted more. Much more. And he wondered how much Legolas was willing to surrender to him. It frightened him to realize that his train of thoughts were not pure. It frightened him to realize that he did not care that his thoughts were not pure. All he cared was this one Elf, hovering between sanity and insanity: life and death. And he would do anything to bring Legolas back.

With that, he kissed his way down the length of the Elf's body, marvelling at how much Legolas had grown since the last time he had seen him. Twenty years of age this body had lived to walk the earth and it had experienced too much too soon. And Haldir worshipped it; this body. He worshipped Legolas. His Little Elf.

Legolas sighed, his eyelashes fluttering in his head. His mouth was opened in a small 'O' and his lips were slack. Haldir kissed that intimate spot at the junction of Legolas' thighs, pressing his lips gently upon that slight bulge. Not too hard for there to be any real friction, but just enough for Legolas to feel the warmth of Haldir's breath through his leggings. And the Elf murmured softly, words lost in a rush of breath while his hands fisted and un-fisted themselves into the locks of Haldir's hair, as if they could not decide whether to pull the older Elf closer to him or to push him away.

"Love you, Little Elf. Love you so much. Always," Haldir whispered - too softly for Legolas to hear those words but with enough feelings injected into them to make Legolas sigh once more. Haldir continued to caress Legolas with his mouth, his hot lips stroking and massaging the young Elf. Legolas whimpered a little, shifting his hips restlessly, crying out only occasionally, unconsciously voicing out his need.

But Haldir understood. So he unbuttoned Legolas' leggings, freeing the young Elf from his constraints. Legolas renewed his protests when Haldir lapped at the smooth flesh, laving the sensitive skin at the head of the young Elf's member. But Haldir persisted, taking the whole of the Elf's organ into the warmth of his mouth, sucking first and then releasing it to blow cool air over the engorged shaft only to repeat the whole process again.

"Can't Haldir. I can't," moaned Legolas, "Can't breathe! Can't." He trashed around on the bed, pinned between the headboard of the bed and Haldir's warm body. He could not breathe. He could not escape. And all the while, blood hummed in his veins and roared in his ears. It felt as if he were drowning. But this time, he was drowning in the strange yet wonderful senses that Haldir evoked in him.

"Yes you can, Legolas. Do not be afraid to feel. Trust me," Haldir said, releasing the Elf's member long enough to say those words before lavishing his attention upon it once more.

Chest heaving, the young Elf whimpered, sighed, moaned and growled. A symphony of sounds that was sweeter to Haldir's ears as compared to the chirping of birds at the first light of dawn. And Haldir hungered for more.

Swiftly he removed his own leggings, ignoring Legolas' cries of dismay at the loss of friction upon his shaft. The young Elf's eyes were wide as they watched Haldir with a mixture of apprehension and just a touch of desire. But the fear was stronger so Haldir took hold of Legolas' hand and kissed his fingertips tenderly.

"Love you so much, Little Elf! Let me love you," he said. And he impaled himself upon Legolas' turgid member with a hiss of pain as well as intense pleasure. He paused for a moment, trying to get accustomed to Legolas' size. Although the young Elf was too young to cause any real damage to Haldir's dry passage, it still hurt for the older Elf had never been with any other male before.

"Love you," he gritted out amidst his pain and he began to rock himself back and forth. Legolas became delirious with awakened passions. His head was thrown back in wanton desire as he voiced out his pleasure without restraint. It was how Haldir loved Legolas the most - when he was uninhibited in his emotions and so lost in his sense of bliss and wonderment. And Haldir increased his pace.

Legolas joined him in this heathen and yet beautiful dance, their breaths mingling and hearts beating in quick tempo. It was their first time. A union of two friends, two loves and two bodies. And it was that very night (although none of them realized it) that Haldir belonged to Legolas for he had given all of himself freely to the young Elf.

It did not take long. Legolas gave a final cry before finding his release, shuddering as he did. He made a desperate grab for Haldir as if to prevent himself from being swept away by the stormy waves of passion and Haldir held on to him tightly. Haldir and Legolas sat still for long minutes, none of them moving. None of them speaking. Waiting till the shivers oozed away from the young Elf's body like the last remnant of a bad dream.

"Love you, Little Elf. I love you so much," he whispered into Legolas hair and Legolas wept once more. Only this time, his tears were healing - like fresh blood that flows after an infected wound had been cut open.

"Alas, why do you weep? I am here. It will be alright," Haldir murmured, rocking Legolas in his arms as how the young Elf's mother used to do. When Legolas became quiet, Haldir laid him upon the bed and got up to take the discarded blanket from the corner of the room. And then he lay next to Legolas, allowing the young Elf to curl up next to him while he tucked themselves in under the blanket.

They lay next to each other, staring into each other's face. Haldir stroked Legolas' hair, lips and eyebrows and Little Elf closed his eyes at the sensation of having Haldir touching him that way. For a moment, he was at peace with himself.

Many minutes passed without a sound from Legolas and Haldir thought that the Elf had fallen into a deep slumber. But suddenly, Legolas spoke, his voice clear and sad.

"She lied to me, Haldir."

"Who?" Haldir asked although he knew who Legolas was referring to.

"Nana. She said I would always be her Little Elf. And yet she left," he said. A tear slipped out from a corner of his eye. And then another.

A pause.

"I will never leave you, Legolas."

"Do you promise me this, Haldir?"

"Yes."

It was another lie. And they both knew it.

Legolas said nothing but snuggled closer to Haldir, burying his face into his friend's neck. And together, they awaited the awakening of the dawn in the city of Rivendell.


	6. The Coming of Age

The years crept by slowly, yet inexorably as the waves tossing in the tempestuous storm – and before long, Legolas Greenleaf reached a mature age forty years of age. With his coming of age, it seemed as if he were no longer the Elfling he once was. Gone was the ready laughter playing upon his lips and the smile upon his face. Gone was the sparkle of youth in his blue eyes – the blueness merely a reflection of the sorrow he had endured in the past – merely hinting at his loss.

Each day, the morning brought little comfort and the night, little rest. The sun either revealed a slender figure roaming through the woods alone or with another Elf as they walked hand in hand through the sanctuary that Rivendell provided. Each night, the shadows hid his tears as he wept silently into his hands, murmuring his mother's name over and over again.

"Nana," he would whisper, his voice thick with tears and unheard by all except the surrounding darkness and the crickets that hid behind the cover of rocks and moss.

Yet, despite all his pain and all his loss, life went on for Little Elf until slowly but surely he withdrew completely from the shell he had long sought refuge in. Tonight, he laid his head upon Haldir's lap, his eyes turned upwards towards the heavens, silently mapping the stars and reveling in the soft, gentle light of the white moon above.

The grass was cool and soft beneath them, and the breeze blew softly, making the leaves rustle, producing its own unique melody that could soothe even the most tangled of nerves. And so for the moment – the one moment in time that he spent quietly with Haldir – Legolas became at peace with himself and with the world he existed in.

"It is strange is it not, Haldir? When something that is not supposed to be, come to be?" Legolas said, his voice dreamy and eyelids heavy from the gentle caresses of the evening breeze upon his face.

"Why, Little Elf, you speak in riddles," Haldir chided gently before bending down to brush soft kisses upon his friend's brow.

"Perhaps, though I cannot help but wonder. What does the future hold for us? The stars show nothing and yet I am certain that death is the only certainty. The awaited end. It is not sad, Haldir if immortals such as us… such as Nana… have to die? To face death before any of us are ready to accept it?"

"Hush now, how you speak," Haldir murmured, pressing a finger to Legolas' lips in an attempt to silence him. "Do not speak of such things. It is true that death is a sad thing. But it is better to die a noble death than to linger on and do no good in the world."

There was a short silence while Legolas pondered upon the wisdom of Haldir's words.

"Then you speak like a true Warrior. I do not wish to die, I think. I wish to live forever," Legolas said, as he reached out to tuck a lock of Haldir's hair that had been blown awry by the wind behind a pointed ear.

Haldir smiled as he shook his head.

"You will find that you will never have truly lived if there isn't anything you are willing to give your life for," Haldir replied, "But hush now. Do not dwell on sad things. Go to sleep and I will sing you the lay of Nimrodel as how your Nana used to do."

And so Legolas fell silent, his eyes fluttering close as he listened to the familiar tune, Haldir's sweet voice lulling him into a deep slumber. And before he drifted off, he imagined himself as he had been in the past, running wildly through the forests of Mirkwood with his mother's happy laughter ringing in his ears like the sweetest call of the birds in the early mornings of spring…

*~*~*~*~*~*

The shadows had awakened, or so it was whispered. Deep in the hearts of Men and Elves, a growing unease festered as the wind brought strange news of the return of an evil that was as old as the very rocks itself.

The forces of darkness had grown of late. Orcs grew in numbers in the Misty Mountains and goblins roamed freely at the borders of Lothlorien. Then there were the sightings – sightings of a winged beast that sometimes flew too closely to Rivendell, breathing its breath of fire, its shrill cries casting shadows of doubt and fear in their minds.

And somewhere in the city of Rivendell, Thranduil stood by the window of his sleeping chamber, his hooded gaze scanning the view outside, keen eyes looking towards the morning sun appearing over the mountains of the North. Already Lothlorien had been attacked and the Lord Celeborn had requested for the aid of Haldir to lead the Lorien Elves into battle. It was time then, Thranduil decided with a heavy heart. It was time for Haldir to leave Rivendell and return to the place of his birth – and judging from the severity of the situation in all three Elvish Cities, it was likely that he could never leave the Golden Woods… at least not until the last of the evil had been truly vanquished.

"But what then of Legolas?" Haldir asked, his voice harsh with sorrow and worry. For thirty five years he had stayed by Little Elf's side, seldom parting for long. For thirty five years he had been so used to the presence beside him, watching Legolas grow into the very adult that he had become. And to be separated now… to be parted after so long… the mere thought of saying his goodbyes to Little Elf seemed to be too terrible to bear.

"You have done all you can for him. He must now mend on his own," came the reply.

There was a short silence as the two Elves struggled with their own conflicting emotions… pulled in two directions by their hearts desires and by their responsibility.

"Then I have to do what I must although my heart bids me otherwise," Haldir said bitterly and began to turn from the room before a gentle hand stopped him.

"I have never truly thanked you for what you have done for him… what you have done for my son," said the voice quietly, its tone laced with a tinge of sorrow and a certain element of wistfulness. 

Haldir gave a sad smile.

"There is no need to. You have done me a favour by allowing me to stay by his side for so long. There is nothing more I can ask of you," he answered just as softly.

A pause.

"You love him do you not?" the Mirkwood king asked, the question so direct that it took the Lorien elf by surprise.

"I do not know. Maybe…yes… yes I do. I do. I must. There is no other word that can adequately describe what I feel for him," Haldir said, stuttering a little with the rush of emotions that had sent a lump into his throat.

The King regarded him silently, his gaze serious and lips unsmiling.

"Did you not tell him of your feelings?" he ventured carefully. Haldir had to look away.

"'Tis not so simple, my lord. For Legolas to know that I love him and for him to love me back… it would be hard for him indeed. He is not ready to feel for he only sees the pain of parting from the people he loved most."

Silence still, broken only by the faint chirping of the birds upon the trees.

"Then I must envy you for you are able to feel what you want to feel and not think yourself any the lesser for succumbing to such emotions," Thranduil murmured, his eyes fixing upon the Misty Mountains in the distance.

"I've never told him how much I loved his mother nor did I mention my love for the child she bore me," he continued, his voice so quiet that it was nearly lost in the winds had Haldir not been so close to him.

Haldir paused before he laid a hesitant hand upon the regal set of shoulders.

"Perhaps it is time you let him know that you care. You are all he has now. There is no one else. Believe it or believe it not, my lord… but Legolas has always and will always love you. How can he not? You are in his very blood. You are his blood."

Another pause, the tension so thick a blade cannot possible slice through it. This time, the silence went on unbroken and so Haldir walked out of the room to tell Legolas the news of his impending departure from Rivendell.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"You lied," Legolas hissed, his eyes snapping in rare anger… and anguish.

"I must. I have to go. My people need me… surely you understand..." 

"You said you would never leave!"

"Please understand…"

"I understand nothing! You made a promise to me, long ago. Promises are not meant to be broken!"

"Legolas…"

"Go then. Go back to your people. Once I thought that I will always have you by my side. Now I have no one."

With a sharp turn upon his heels and a flick of his hair, Legolas walked away leaving Haldir looking after him in utter despair…

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was time to leave. With a heavy heart, Haldir checked that none of his belongings had been left behind. His mount had already been readied by the attendants and he had long ago said his goodbyes to the Lord Elrond, thanking him for his hospitality. 

He then walked out into the hallway, his heart weeping and his feet taking him further and further from the place where his heart lay to an unknown future – a future of bloodshed and suffering. He went past Legolas' room, noticing the door that was stubbornly shut and paused for the barest moment, a hand lifting to knock. But somehow, he faltered and he settled instead to lightly stroke the wood with his fingertips, trying to imagine Legolas on the other side of the barrier doing the same. 

"Farewell, Little Elf," he whispered before he hardened his heart, stepped firmly away from the door and walked briskly to the halls below. He did not see the door opening behind him nor did he feel the weight of the pair of eyes that watched him as he walked away without once looking back.

A crowd had by then gathered before the gates, mostly consisting of Elf Women who were eager to see him off. They had liked Haldir for he was always gracious and polite towards the people of Rivendell and many had come to see him as one of their own kind.

The attendant loaded the Lorien Elf's belongings upon the back of the horse and helped him mount it. It was time. He had to leave. But a gentle hand upon his calf stopped him. 

It was Legolas.

"I do not wish for you to think ill of me when we are apart, my friend," he said, his voice gentle and it. He could not find the words to speak. Words never come easily when one most needed it. It was, Haldir would think many years later, one of the ironies of life that would take an eternity to understand.

Legolas pressed something into Haldir's hand. It was the green leaf. The leaf that Annariel had found lodged into her hair. The very leaf that gave Legolas his name.

"Take this to Lothlorien. It is my wish and my mother's. See that a brooch is made out of it. Perhaps one day, I will go to the Golden Woods and would want to wear it as a reminder that I must become the very Elf that my mother wanted me to be… that I must become someone you will be proud to call your friend."

The horse reared, forcing them apart for it was eager to take its leave.

"Go now with my love. Think of me fondly. Farewell!" he cried as Haldir dug his heels into the horse's flank. With a last look into Legolas' face, he was off like the wind, the hooves of the horse barely touching the ground as it galloped away. It was the last time that the people in Rivendell saw the silver hair glinting in the sunlight because the Lorien Elf would never again return to the House of Elrond.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Several days passed and Legolas felt the loss of Haldir's presence sharply, the pain feeling like a knife being twisted in his heart. Rivendell no longer was a place of tranquility for it brought too many memories of the times he had spent with Haldir. It was time then. It was time to go home – to Mirkwood.

Thranduil was standing in front of his son, watching him pack his belongings in preparation for his return to Mirkwood. They were silent, words being made superficial due to their inability of conveying their emotions. So much to be said, yet neither could find to words to say it. It was too much. So, Thranduil broke the silence.

"You have come of age. Perhaps you will find a mate back in Mirkwood," he said, his voice belying the tumultuous state of his emotions. So close yet so far. He could not even remember the last time he had spoken to Legolas as a son – as a prince of Mirkwood.

Legolas did not look at his father, his eyes fixed upon the task at hand.

"There is no one who could compare to my mother. No Elf woman will ever take her place in my heart," he said flatly.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Legolas doggedly folded and put aside articles of clothes. Before long, it was done. He was ready to go. 

"My lord," he murmured as he bowed before his father and turned to leave. A soft voice calling his name made him stop in his tracks. But he did not turn around.

"Legolas… after all that had been said…after all that had been done… in my own way I have loved your mother. And… and I have loved you."

Legolas bowed his head low, his hair hiding his face. There was nothing else to say. No words. Nothing.

And so Legolas walked away, leaving his father alone in the empty room... leaving behind his sad tale and his memories that will be unknown to all that lived except those who had already known him, the Little Elf of Mirkwood.


End file.
